Look How You Turned Out
by counselor
Summary: If I was going to write another story it would be something like this...
1. Chapter 1

Look How You Turned Out 1

"Oh yeah," Charlie is saying, "Bella can do anything she puts her mind to."

"Where's she get that?" his old friend Edward says all ho-ho-ho before he takes a big swig of his beer.

My Dad…he's one long-running commercial…about me. It's like he sells me. It's like he gets commission every time someone agrees with his bias.

God I love him so much…Dad. Mom was such a bitch to leave him. He's handsome, and kind, and steady as the Rock of Prudential. I mean Gibraltar.

And there's the son he never had…at age twelve because he's only twelve years older than him…Edward Cullen. Also handsome. Kind. Steady. And also shredded by his bitch of an ex-wife.

Where's justice I ask you? I catch a tear just in time. It's not raining out.

They don't see me…spying on them, but I am anyway, looking down on them actually, from my bedroom window. Dad doesn't know I'm home. He's sitting on the patio with Edward waiting for me to get here. This is the first break I've had since graduating and leaving for Chicago to take my big shot job at Black Enterprises as office manager to none other than Jacob Black himself. And now I'm fired. Let go. Axed. Ka-putted. Oh I can do anything I put my mind to alright. Right now I'm thinking how easy it would be to drop out of this window onto Edward's luscious, lumpy lap. But I must maintain my asexual image in front of Charlie, and I don't want to kill Edward. Or myself. Least I don't think I want to kill myself.

I've known Edward since around junior high when he moved to town and got a job at the station where Charlie is chief of police. Edward was this young married guy with a baby on the way and I was just starting to feel tingly down south. Well, he was right on time, the gas in the tank of my fantasies. What motivation! If I had a nickel for every time I made imagination-Edward tell me to spread my legs and wiggle my barely-there teacups while I rubbed up myself, I could lay those nickels end to end all the way to the moon…three times.

I was in my first year of college when I heard he was going through a divorce. He had a little boy, like five at the time. I tried to express my sincerest sympathy to him one night in our kitchen during my father's annual, have the guys and their wives over Christmas party. But Edward had custody of his son, and at Dad's insistence brought him along. I don't even think Edward had a beer, and as I remember he'd patted my head instead of my behind and thanked me for my kind words like I was Laura Ingalls and he was Mr. Edwards. I was thinking more along the lines of a less disgusting Lolita and HH.

Okay, here I was looking down at the two of them. Dear old Dad. And his good friend and deputy, his Barney Fife. That didn't quite cover it. Granted I could only see Edward's lean sprawled legs, and his lap and flat plain of his stomach and his broad shoulders and long arms and hands with limber fingers and the top of his head and the sexy shaggy hair and some of his profile. Beyond that I couldn't see a thing. Did I include the chin? Jaw I should say. How could I forget to mention that…bulwark of lickable scruff?

I ease my head back in my room and rehook the screen. Edward is talking to Dad. The man pulverizes me. He's got this voice…it goes right between my legs, like there's a little stereo speaker right there…resonating…a boom box if you will. Hot, nasty sex with him would be like eucalyptus oil on the chaffed, no- bloody scraped skin on my soul. Soul-skin. It would feel so good, this mindless snaky sex I've been thinking on for the past ten years. I say snaky because we are writhing and twisting together like snakes on a physician's pole…or a stripper's pole. Whoa now. I want to play naked Twister with him. I want to be so entwined we can't even be separated by a chiropractor…or a fireman with the jaws of life.

Oh shut-up. I don't want to hear about boundaries and…what's healthy and prudent. I don't care. I've played by the rules, and I got my ovaries served to me on a plate with fire-breathing catsup. I'm pissed off.

All my nice Ikea stuff. All sold off for the first fifty bucks someone could slap into my drunk hand. Someone who lived down the hall got a bargain. I can't for the life of me remember her name…but the God of wrath and vengeance knows.

Okay, curtain call. I kick off my shoes and my feet scream a size seven thank you. I change my blouse for a flannel shirt, roll the sleeves. I stick my hair up in a knot and put on my fuzzy warm socks and go downstairs. Asexual…remember?

I push outside and pretend I don't feel Edward's eyes on me. I look at Dad, and gush over him, and he can't hide how happy he is to hug me and welcome me home for some turkey. He assumes I'm going back…to Chicago. And being a lying boomerang of a loser I stand and give Edward a quick wave like hi-ya.

And there's interest in his face, I'll give him that. Like a-look how you turned out-expression. Or not. I'm not getting my hopes up cause I already know I'm reading too much into it, trying to guess if his brows have ever been that high before. Let's face it, he still wants to pinch the wrong set of cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

Look How You Turned Out 2

Dad wants to hear everything…about Chicago.

"Oh," I laugh, "Dad…I've pretty well kept you up." Well I pretty well have…sort of.

"I should go," Edward says, his legs springing to life, his feet rising on the lounge chair even.

Dad and I protest like in stereo, it's so embarrassing.

So Edward just as quickly lets his feet drop and grips the arms of the lounge and stays put.

I ask about his son, Junior. The name is a mistake, but the ex-wife, the moron. She wanted Junior. The name, not the kid.

Edward warms right up. So like Charlie. He goes on, like a tmi deal. But it's cute. He's cute. Cute? Tell it to the priest. He's gorgeous. Even in the poor light out here, he's got me doing spontaneous kegels. I mean, I'm not doing them. They're just happening. Seizures between my legs. Epileptic labia. I kid you not.


	3. Chapter 3

Look How You Turned Out 3

His mother is watching his son. Overnight. He says that, and I would not acquit him for it. He's telling nothing but…the truth.

So when he goes home, and he does pretty quickly, like he thinks I brought the flu home from the big city…or something…so when he leaves and I finish hanging with Dad and can get upstairs to my crow's nest and survey his house across the street, and that dim light on in the living room where he's probably watching television, the news because he does keep up with current events. He's that old. So I look over there and I think hey…I'm going to put my mind to it and go for it. I'm going to find my old Girl Scout uniform, squeeze into it and go on over there and ask him if he wants to buy…try my cookies…for free.

Oh hell, I don't know. I'm not trying to seduce him or something…or hook up or something…I'm just trying to get him to seduce me and then I'll go along.


	4. Chapter 4

Look How You Turned Out 4

I wake up in the wrong room. I'd gone in to the front bedroom so I could look at Edward's house and think about stuff. Thank God I fell asleep before I could carry any of it out.

I have enough shame on my plate as it is, I don't need to be staggering home after some booty call with my dad's best friend. Plus I never want Dad to get the idea I've got Mom's problem. Too much testosterone. Not talking about a beard but an insatiable appetite. Or the incessant practice of whoredom. I've already lost my job. One sin at a time.

But no sooner do I think all that than Edward's door opens and he's wearing these low-slung running shorts and no shirt at all, just his skin and nipples and muscles. Oh my.

I stumble onto my feet. I'm already ripping at the flannel shirt and my pants are off before I cross the hall and rip through one of my suitcases and produce my tiny running shorts. I don these and a sports bra and a t-shirt. I stick my feet in my running shoes and don't even redo my hair which is already a freaking tornado. I want to grab a jacket, but he isn't even wearing a shirt and I'm much cuter in this tee-shirt anyway.

So I am out the door while he's still stretching, and everyone knows you don't stretch cold, but whoa if he wants to keep posing like that then who am I to question the gods.


	5. Chapter 5

Look How You Turned Out 5

He is shocked to see me come out the door in the faint morning light. I'm shocked too. It's freaking cold as Polar Bear teats out here. But I don't show it, I just start moving my feet like I'm jogging as I softly shut the door and give Edward a little wave and jog down the three little stoop stairs and the walkway to the street.

I take off and I am miserable and everything is stiff and achy and I am smiling as he comes up behind me. Naked, so naked, so naked. He says this good morning, breath puffing in front of his face and I swear my nipples rip through my bra and I keep going, and my ankle hurts but I refuse to limp, until I have to.

He asks if I'm alright and I laugh, I laugh. I'm great, I say.

"It's nice you've come home. He's missed you like crazy. All he's talked about," he says.

Okay. He needs to stop. I'm like…guilty. I'm deceiving Charlie right now and I don't need to be reminded how much he believes in me. Tear his heart out just like Mom why don't I?

But I smile. Or maybe it's a grimace. I'm dying here. He can't stand going so slow and he takes off. Now I see, the whole deal, all of him from the back and holy moly.

Come back here Edward Cullen. I'm singing that old song Ruby only I'm replacing Ruby's name with Edward's. "Oh Edward…don't take your love to town. Oh Edward…for God sake turn around."


	6. Chapter 6

Look How You Turned Out 6

Two blocks out I'm walking and holding my side and he passes me again. So he had the last half block at least to stare at my ass, to come up behind me and be…dazzled? The sun is rising in his eyes. There's hope.

But he is not so eager to leave me in his dust this time. He slows down now that he's established how much better shape he's in than me.

I don't care. This isn't about athletics. Well…not really.

"Slow and steady…," I pant, unable to finish the sentence.

He is running before me, backwards, and tsking. I didn't know mockery was one of his talents. I'm shocked. But he's so beautiful it's almost an honor to know his disdain. It beats say…being ignored.

And his eyes go there. Yes they do. He picks them right back up, his eyes, but I saw it. He's looking at those two bouncing handfuls this bra can't corral. Yee-hi.

"How was the big city really?" he asks still mocking.

I want to say big, but that's lame. Or orgasmic, but that's lamer. "Great," I say in a fit of inspiration.

Then more inspired still I say, "Miss me?"

He coughs some, his eyes shiny when he chokes out, "Of course."

He coughs some more, hands on knees and I pass him.

I jog around him, which is a waste of energy because I need to make every step count, but the view from every possible angle is…fantastic.

He laughs a little because I've circled him, then he takes off again, goes about half a block and circles back just in case I thought I could keep up.

"Bragger," I say.

He just smiles and falls in beside me. "Bella…is everything okay for you?"

"Why?" I ask, too loudly.

His hands go up, like 'don't shoot.' "Just wondering. Sorry."

I don't want him to apologize. I want him to keep going…drag it out of me.

"I don't know if you heard," he said. "I ah…I'm leaving the department first of the year."

I stop. He stops. This pain goes through me…for Charlie.

"Don't look at me like that," he says.

I blink but my face stays the same. Even my labia are slowing down.

"He's okay with it," he says.

How is that possible? Edward is like…a son. A brother/son. How is this okay?


	7. Chapter 7

Look How You Turned Out 7

"Jessica thinks…."

"Who?" I ask.

"Jessica. She's…she's really great. You'd…like…um…."

I hate her. I don't even know her, just by sight. Yeah I hate her.

"Junior….," I say.

"He likes her. He really does."

"Dad said you were the only one he could imagine filling his shoes," I say.

"I know. I know that. But he understands, he does. Bella I never meant to make police work my career…the lousy hours and pay…phone calls all hours of the day and night…anything from a possum in the trash cans…to a husband and wife married fifty years just another traffic fatality. The…I'm burned out. Hell I'm ashes."

"Bullshit," I say, and we immediately drop through the floor onto another level entirely. One we've never gotten to…like honesty maybe. I'm already running and he doesn't catch up. He doesn't try.


	8. Chapter 8

Look How You Turned Out 8

Jessica…hairdresser Jessica?

Wait, I'm upset about him leaving Charlie, not Jessica.

Hairdresser Jessica? Isn't she like…forty?

I round the block, a couple of them actually, and reach our door and creep inside. Up to my room, well the front room that used to be Mom and Charlie's before she left and he moved in to the small room downstairs. I look out the front window and he's just getting home, and his beauty hits me again, like always, a rock in a pillow, right in the vagina. He makes my thighs twitch.

Once he's in I go to my room like the bad girl I am.

He doesn't know I'm alive. Sure he glanced at my boobs, but it's not enough…they aren't enough…I can never be. I'm a perpetual kid in his eyes, daughter of his best friend, the babysitter, the little neighbor girl. Fuck him.

I wish.

No fuck him…and Jessica.


	9. Chapter 9

Look How You Turned Out 9

After I shower and fall back into bed wearing underwear and one of Charlie's big old soft t-shirts, I go into a coma, I dream. I'm in the GS uniform…but it's a big ugly uniform, and I'm trying to fix that, to cinch in the big dowdy waist so Edward will see my hour glass ass, but he doesn't, he's with someone else, and I'm insisting she's me and Edward says, "She's not you," and he goes ahead and makes out with her and I'm standing there watching reaching behind and feeling my big old cottage cheese ass I just grew for this dream, I hope, and I'm saying, "No, it's me." But he's looking at me shaking his head a little as he feeds this infinite tongue down her throat. There's cookies too, and tea cups…I'm eating the whole time trying to console myself and I wake up and it was so real I'm still whimpering, a total passive victim. But I'd kill for a Thin Mint.

My God, Edward Cullen is calling me, his voice flying right up the stairs into my vagina ears. My legs open wide, like east and west and I sit up and grab my forehead. I'm staring at my open door. Dad never comes up here. But Edward is saying, "Rise and shine Clementine!" and Dad is laughing and I smell the pancakes.

"Oh shit," I whisper. I'm exhausted. I went running for shit sakes. Me? Yes, in the cold. I push back the covers. My thighs are chapped.

They're talking, Dad's saying, "She won't hear you, she's not a morning person," Edward saying how I was out jogging at sun-up. Dad saying he was lying. Edward saying he was telling the truth. Dad saying how city life and the demands of my new job may be changing me, and Edward coming half-way up the stairs, I can tell by his voice, and calling my name a couple more times. And someone closing the front door. Then it is quiet.

I don't answer, I'm just waiting. I don't know how I know, but I know he's standing on the stairs and he wants to come all the way up. He wants to look at me. He wants to see me lying in my bed…naked…having a wet, wet dream about him in his running shorts. He'd been preening around for me. I saw it.

I groan cause I'm such a liar. To myself. I lie to myself, protecting my inner motherless child and all. I just lie and lie and lie.

I hear the stairs creak, then his slow steps in the hallway.

He's peeking around my doorway, his bright green eyes, a face that never loses its ability to make me gasp and howl…inside.

"Edward?" I say like he might be…say…Steven or Enrico. But my legs are slowly coming back together as I pull up the covers.

He's put his hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry Bella. I just…Charlie got a call…nothing big…drunk Joe fell asleep in the street again. He said we should go ahead…I was…well we got off rough this morning. I know you took it hard…about me leaving the force. I should have explained. I really thought your door was closed and when it wasn't…you were upset…I got this…crazy idea that what if…you did something. I'm sorry."

I am well covered now. He'd gotten an eye-full, like underwear and legs bare and no bra. An eyeful.

"I'm sorry," he repeats like he's trying to be…sorry. He looks at me and swallows a mouthful of lust. I think.

"You…didn't ask me where I'm going," he says.

I just keep staring. Well so does he. I might be a sexy sight or something. Hope so. He is, all showered and flannel shirt over white t-shirt and jeans perfectly worn and formed, not sagging like a rodeo clown, but relaxed and hugging him just right.

This not talking thing is working for me so I just keep staring.

"I wanted to explain…and when you didn't answer…I jumped the gun. I told you I've seen too much. I didn't mean…your privacy," sweep of his hand. "Hey we're going fishing…pancakes."

Stare. Stare.

"Junior will be glad to see you though and Charlie will be back soon. Get dressed, Charlie's got your waders packed. Come on down."

I move my legs over the side of the bed and I'm sitting there. "What are you doing?"

"What…are you doing?" He keeps his eyes on my face and I let him wonder a minute…what I'm asking about. I'm not sure either…what I mean.

"Leaving the force? You love that job."

"I already told you," he says. But his face…he drops his eyes a second and swallows. I've got him now.

"What would you do?" I say.

"Billy's selling his place."

"My old job?" I worked at Billy's all through high school, then summers during college. It kept me from being available to babysit Junior. Most of the time.

"I'm buying it…with Charlie. Charlie is going to retire in a couple of years and help me run it. By then I'll be ready to take the bar…practice law I mean."

Oh. "Who's going to have Dad's back?"

"He's fine," Edward scoffed. He's leaning his shoulder on the doorframe now, ankles and arms crossed. "Something happened. You're worried. You're…different. How you doing in the big city?"

"Great," I say, chin up. "Yeah me and Capone have conquered that city." I hold those green cop eyes. I can do it…practiced on Charlie. I'm uncrackable.

But I feel some tears building.

"You can tell me…right?" he says his arms uncrossing.

"What?" I take a corner of the sheet and dab at my face. His chest…it's calling to me like a nice memory foam pillow…that talks and gets you off.

"Well…I think of you like that…Charlie's daughter. Charlie, Bella."

I keep wiping.

"Here," he says taking a few steps in and grabbing a couple of Kleenexes from the box on my dresser. He brings them to me. It's like I'm designing a porno.

"I know how hard change can be," he says. "You're upset. You need to get a pole in the water so things can get straightened out again. Get…dressed. Your pancakes are getting cold."

I take the Kleenexes and he turns a bright red, looking down at me with that fatherly smile and this not fatherly look in his eyes. It's perverted, him speaking about a pole and pancakes. I think of ripping my top off. His too.

I swear my legs widen just a notch…so my niche…can peek out.

He does that crackly swallow again. "Wait until you see Juney. All he's talked about for a week is seeing Miss Bella again."

Oh smooth. Bring up the kid. My eyes are really leaking now. He gets me more Kleenexes. I should ask how the little shit is doing, but I don't. God knows Charlie keeps me informed of his every move. I've got sibling rivalry there. I'm conflicted between loving the little shit and wanting to destroy him. Or slap him.

He hands me the tissues, and I look up at him and he gets this sappy look, like he's found himself after teetering for a minute and thinking something less than stellar, but now he's back on track and he's looking sympathetic and dad-like. He smiles encouragingly but he's still here…in my freaking room.

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve bringing my arm up for a minute and putting it down quick effectively knocking the stretched collar of the old shirt off my shoulder. Yeah, no bra in case you didn't know or couldn't see the finger pokes. Yeah that shoulder has a match on the other side. Two of them. And just a little lower…connect the dots…two of…them. See what you're missing?

He was a regular at Billy's. Lunch crowd. He used to watch me. Not all the time or even most of the time, but sometimes. I haven't got anything he hasn't considered…a lot. But the Charlie thing…and he doesn't sleep around. He's got Juney. He's a good guy. But he needs to see me without the Charlie fence…moat…walls…guards on the walls…hot boiling vats of oil on the walls.

I've let down the draw bridge.

Jessica? For real?

No and no. Even if it wasn't me…not her. He doesn't know what he needs. He never has. He thinks of Juney and he floats along. His hair looks great, I'll give her that…but no I won't. His hair always looks great.

I wipe my snot and sigh and give him the doe eyes like he's made me see the light. I rub the bare shoulder and yeah his hungry starving eyes lose their righteous glint for a few flickering seconds and he clears his throat and tells me to get downstairs and he gets out of there and the film on my potential porno snaps off the reel.

I've got a lot of fishing to do.


	10. Chapter 10

Look How You Turned Out 10

Edward is right about the water. A plan unfolds accordion like pages, endless scenarios. I'm getting my old job back, that's a given. They say you can't go home…maybe I never really left. It's the Truman Show…my life. Chicago was an illusion.

I wish.

"Bella," Dad calls, his gloved hand closing on a beautiful shimmering fish which he holds for my perusal then drops in the basket at his side.

I give out a, "Whoot," from upstream, and Edward does the same further up.

I sigh as I look at him…Edward, not Dad…standing in the lazy current, the brightness creating an arch around his…I fumble to put my pole under my arm and dig my phone out of my bra. I snap a picture of Edward, and he's looking at me. I make the slightest move, he looks. Possibly afraid I'll drown and take out Charlie. But I'm not shy about the picture taking if he even gets what I'm doing.

I have a collection in a file on my phone. I need an update. Waders and a wife beater…I'm freaking freezing but he's already told me he runs hot.

So it's back to fishing and letting my plan unfold, and he's making his way to me now. Least I like to think so.

"Hey," he says, lifting the lid on his basket to show me two fat ones. We're very close, and I look up at him and it's a little like looking straight in to the sun but I don't squint.

He does. He squints behind his dark glasses. I love the way the sides of his eyes have that crinkle. I love his shoulders, roundy but straight across. His lips…they could eat the corn off my cob anyday. That's gross but you get my meaning.

He smirks at me a little, and walks around me shaking his head. Yeah, whatever. Deal.


	11. Chapter 11

Look How You Turned Out 11

Dad wanted to cook the catch right here at the picnic site which is no surprise, he loves to do that, so he fusses around and makes the fire and puts his two beauties on the grill. He's telling me all about purchasing Billy's.

"You're the one who told me I need to think about my future," he's says as he carefully seasons the fish.

"Sure but...did you announce this at the station? Two years?"

"I'm ready pumpkin face," Dad says.

My eyes jet Edward's way already knowing he's smirking. He loves when Dad calls me that. He knows I love-slash-hate it because I don't have a round face. It's heart-shaped, and he turns me into an adolescent girl when he says that, not the sexy siren I'm trying to be here as I crunch handfuls of potato chips.

"Hey…want to see a natural arch?" Edward says bringing Charlie the last of the fish cleaned and ready.

"Get over yourself, Cullen. I'm not looking down your throat," I say.

"Suit yourself," he says walking off. He's put on a dry t-shirt and he wears his jeans again. My very favorite nearly disintegrated ones.

"Don't take too long," Charlie calls.

"Back to the law?" I ask trying to catch up to Edward and zip my jacket while I continue our conversation from this morning. "I thought you gave that up when you joined the department."

He isn't ruffled by my question. "Nose is red," he says flicking the bill on my cap.

"I hate that," I say like a girl, holding onto my sun-sensitive nose that defies sunscreen.

He laughs. "Don't be a hater."

"I hate you," I say, and I smile at the end of it and he smiles too. "That's supposed to upset you."

He makes a little gasp and clutches his heart. "How's that?"

"Stupid," I say.

He shakes his head. "You remind me of Juney."

"Ha-ha." I'm a little stung he should bring up my 'sibling' like this.

"Hey…the natural arch is too far away."

"So…what are we doing?" My heart picks up. He's gotten me off on our own on porpoise? Yes I meant to say porpoise. I'm giddy!

"Well…he ah…he needs your support."

I stop. "Who…what?"

"Your dad. He needs you to support the retirement idea. It's…hard." He's looking at me, he's talking to me like I am Juney.

"I get it," I say, also like Juney. "No…you know what? I know I've been away with school…and…life? I get that, Edward. But he's still my," I emphasize 'my' by spreading my hand over the center of my chest, "dad. And you," I point at him, "don't get to tell me how to speak to him. Alright?" I fold my arms and throw my weight on one leg and stare.

He is rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry."

"I'm a little tired of that too. Sorry doesn't…take it away." That's twice he did the sorry routine on me, twice in one day.

"Take what away?" His hands go to his hips.

"Your arrogance." I'm out of control—I've done air quotes.

"My what?"

"Hubis. Pride. Assholery."

"Wha…?"

"Jessica? For real? Isn't she like…a hundred?"

"Okay, okay. Be nice."

"Why? Why should I? I'm nine."

"You said it…."

"Oh," I bat my hands at him and walk away. I give him the bird but I don't look back.

I don't know what the hell just happened but I told you we'd dropped another level. I told you we were in a new place.

He catches up, hand on my arm. "Bella…slow down…damn. Give me a chance to explain."

Charlie is busy cooking but he's looking our way. He's curious.

Explain what? That I need counseling?

"It's about Juney isn't it. You don't have to worry. He's getting to really…he's a, it's getting better between them." Oh I can see the whole deal in his eyes. There's conflict between Jessica and Juney. I love that little shit.

"Doesn't she have a couple of…?"

"No. She doesn't have children."

"But I thought you didn't want to do that to Juney. You said you weren't going to date until he was older." I kind of mean this and I kind of don't. Yeah, I'm a shit, too, a big one. I'm pretending it's always been about Juney.

"He is older Bella. You just said it, he's nine. And he's never had to share me before, and he's fighting it. But Jessica's been patient. She's been…."

"I don't want to hear how Jessica's been," I say, a little too much intensity on the 'J'.

"Hey…no one replaces you."

What does that mean?

"I told you, he can't wait to see you."

Oh…that's what it means.

"And I can't wait to see him," I say sweetly. And we stare at one another just a beat too long.

Charlie calls us to dinner.


	12. Chapter 12

Look How You Turned Out 12

BPOV

He's not that glad to see me. After the awkward ride home in Charlie's truck, me sitting between Charlie and Edward, one half of me asexual, the Charlie side, what do you think, and the other side on freaking fire, well after that it was another attempt to clean up and meet downstairs for Juney's homecoming from his grandmother's house and feign normal.

Half an hour later I open the door and wave to Esme as she drives off. Juney's a cute kid, looks just like Edward must have, super cute. I have to admit I'm really glad to see him. "Hello Junior," I say, playing up the name he hates.

"Hello Isabella," he says, like touché.

He squeezes under my arm with his backpack and walks right past me. "Where's Dad?" he says.

"Out back with Charlie. Hey, don't I get a hug?"

"No," he says, taller than last time, when I left for Chicago and he wouldn't come and give me a hug then either.

And he goes out the back door and I hear Dad say, "Hey there he is," like it's Justin Bieber and Dad's a middle school girl.

So it's high-fives between him and the Beebs. I have my hands in my pockets and I'm not exactly hurt, but hey, am I that bad? I've wiped this kid's butt for heaven sakes.

So I'm out there and Edward is holding him, cause even if he's nine he's more like six than nine in terms of being affectionate. I always assumed it was because of his screwed up Mom. I was the same way—kind of needy, but I grew out of it.

So I squeeze into the glider next to Dad and he puts his arm around me. It's old times.

They are telling Juney about the fish. Edward kisses his cheek, but he won't look at him. He does look at Charlie when he tells him his fish were bigger than his dad's. He smiles then.

11111111111111111111111111111

EPOV

I can feel the vibration in him. He's excited she's here. Maybe as excited as I am. If possible. But he's mad. Gets that from me too, the deep down brooding he won't share.

He feels betrayed. It's not her fault. I've told him that. It's just the fucked up way it's been.

Speaking of fucked up. Damn. It's okay. I won't act on it. Don't have to. I'm used to being careful around her…so careful. Not once have I slipped. Until today. I went way over the line. Going up to her room, yeah I panicked. I had this wild idea she might have done something…hurt herself? She's never been suicidal, not even close, but since she's been home I've had this notion that she's different, that something happened and maybe I don't know her…all of her…possibilities. Well I don't. She's a woman.

She's a woman. But there's sadness in her eyes. Her eyes. Pretty doesn't cut it. She's…perfect. And I'm crazy. I've been talking…well allowing Jessica to talk…about a future. I mean…well I'm human. I've always felt this pull to Bella, since her high school graduation. It's like the scales fell from my eyes and I saw her. Maybe for me? It's a stretch.

But I saw her and that last summer before school, that's when it started and I kept it shut off and tried to concentrate on Juney and work. Juney and work. And women threw themselves at me. And I don't know why. I guess I'm not so bad looking, but maybe it's having a son, seeing how I take care of him, maybe that makes them think I'm husband material or something. I don't know exactly, well the uniform. Charlie warned me about it, but I laughed it off. The uniform is a draw.

But her…it got…she got under my skin. Bella poison ivy. A skin rash? Hardly. She was in my blood. She still is. It's disloyal. She's flown past me. A thousand miles an hour. I had to face it…I needed to get out there, meet somebody. I had wanted to spare Juney another mistake. I owed him that after the doozey I picked for his mom. But after Bella left for Chicago…I had to face it I needed to look for a wife. I was kidding myself, pining like some little chick or something. I needed to man up and hunt.

See, I've faced it. I have. Bella is in her big city days, her take on the world days, her let's see what I can do, days. And she should be. She's young, hell she's brilliant. Why shouldn't she get to take off and fly. She doesn't need some old guy with a kid, a great kid, but someone else's kid…she doesn't need that. Or want it. She liked Juney but she never even thought of being a mom. She broke his heart but it couldn't be helped. She had a right to go to college. A right to move to Chicago. She didn't abandon us, that's what I had to keep telling him.

But I felt the same way, knowing it was fucked and unfair and pathetic, I felt the same way. She abandoned us.

She's just here for a visit, then she'll hurry back home to the city and I'll be standing there holding my kid up…again. Why did she have to come home just when he was adjusting and I was accepting it…she was gone. Of course she was. Now we'll have to start all over again. And I've met Jessica. I may not have that same wild feeling about her, but at thirty-four I'm too old for that anyway. Jessica I can count on. Jessica gets it, I need a woman who's settled. And I've started this thing with her, and it's been good. It's been fine. I need to survive the Bella storm and let things settle and get back to the plans Jessica and I are making.

Why did she come when she'd told Charlie she couldn't get the time off and was staying in the city. I was relieved…so relieved. Then boom, she was coming. And even more beautiful…was it possible? Yet she was. Stunning. I mean…it hurts me to look at her and I sound like a chick, but it kills me to look at her. It's just wrong. Charlie trusts me. All along he's trusted me. She was just a kid…and now what-I'm lusting after this kid…who's still young…and here what…a week? See it's just screwed up.

That's all. I just have to get through it. Tomorrow will be good. Jessica's hair convention will be over and she'll be back and it will help.

It's just the shock…her…her…she assaults me…her beauty…hits me hard.


	13. Chapter 13

Look How You Turned Out 13

BPOV

This kid only ever wants to play the most convoluted games. Can't we just play Uno? I ask him that. I don't want to start the game of Life nine o'clock at night. Especially when I have to shop tomorrow for Thanksgiving.

But I know he's trying to punish me the little shit. Then I remember about Jessica, how he's giving her a hard time, and I soften. But he's giving me a hard time too.

"No Uno," he says, drunk on power. He's laying out the board game.

"Juney," Edward calls up the stairs.

I put my finger to my lips so Juney won't call out and Edward will be forced to come up here for the second time today.

"Hide, hide," Juney whispers.

For the first time, we are giggling together. We run in circles, and I try to squeeze behind my hamper, but it's too much trouble, and he grabs my hand and we run across the hall into the dark front bedroom and drop between the bed and the wall. My heart hammers as I hear Edward's footsteps approach. "Juney? Bella?" he sing-songs. We hear him walk along the hall, into my room, still saying our names. We are so still, so serious. Edward's in the doorway now. He snaps on the light. We don't move.

He switches off the light and enters the room, goes to the window, my crow's nest. He's looking out, even with us now. "Great view Swan," he says low, noticing what a great view I have of his whole house. I start to raise up and Juney pulls me down.

Edward turns suddenly and growls loudly and takes two big steps to Juney and grabs him and Juney squeals and giggles and Edward throws him on the bed. Then he reaches for me and I'm airborne and I'm laughing and squirming and I land hard on the bed next to Juney. Juney bobs up and scrambles to his feet and runs out of the room, and Edward has a pillow and he's hitting me with it, and I curl in a ball for a minute and the pillow slams against me and I'm laughing, then Juney is back and Edward is hitting him with a pillow too, and Juney hits back and I grab a pillow and start to swing, but I get in the middle of father and son and get smacked around at the same time and I go down and bounce off the bed onto the floor and they call my name in unison and hands are on me, and Edward ends up holding me like I'm a little baby, cradling me against him while Juney stands on the bed and finally shows me a little mercy, "You alright Bella?"

And I look at Edward, and all the care and concern in the world. And I mouth his name, but no sound. And I almost say it, "I got fired," and the light comes on and, "What the hell," Charlie says.


	14. Chapter 14

Look How You Turned Out 14

EPOV

I didn't date. I was waiting for Juney to grow up. I was waiting for her. I know it. Holding her…well I know it.

Charlie was a little thrown to see her in my arms. We were playing, and he knew it. But still, he got the visual and I could see that too. Thrown.

I told her goodnight in a fog. We scattered. Juney begged me to spend the night at Bella's and I caved in even though I wanted him to come home. He'd already been gone at Mom's, and I missed him and needed to get him settled in some kind of routine.

But he didn't want to leave her. See, we don't want to leave her.

But she leaves us.

BPOV

Holy shit. I let Juney sleep in my room and I go across the hall and fall onto the wrecked bed that used to belong to Mom and Charlie.

He saw it…Edward did…for the first time he was in the crow's nest where I make my porn. About him. Where I spy and stalk and violate his privacy. Scene of the crime.

We were just goofing around. We can't even do that. It doesn't work. Is it just me? Is he feeling this at all? Something? I know he feels something. But he won't act on it. He won't. He's so obnoxiously proper. He's like an apostle or something. He looked so guilty when Charlie turned on the light, like his own son wasn't right there, like I was stark naked.

I was in his arms and it felt…I fit there.

"Bella?" Juney calls me from across the hall. He does this. He loves to do this, have the power to call out…and I come. I get it. I do.

I go in there and he's sitting up and it's little Edward's profile in the dark. I'm stabbed…with love. I love this little turd.

"Why do you have to go to Chicago?"

Oh poop, not this again. "I…the job."

"Quit." He's like a prophet sort of.

"I…," I sit on the floor by the bed. "Juney, I didn't want to leave you."

"I know. You wanted to put me in your suitcase but Dad is the police."

"Exactly. You remember."

"But Charlie misses you. He's got Perkinson's Disease. I Googled it. It's why he shakes."

"What?" Can this be true? "Who told you this?"

"Dad said it. On the phone. I heard him."

I go for my laptop and fire it up and Google Web MD. For the next fifteen minutes I get a crash course in Parkinson's. Everything I share with Juney he already knows.

I close my computer and lay back on the floor, hands on my stomach. It doesn't surprise me a bit that he didn't tell me. Early retirement. Buying Billy's with Edward. He's working on his bucket list.

I feel tears leaking into my hair.

"Don't cry Bella," Juney whispers his feet softly thudding against the floor. Soon he's sitting beside me. He takes my hand. "Dad won't let anything bad happen to Charlie."

I squeeze Juney's hand and smile at him as I sniff. "I know that," I try to scoff. I don't want to scare Juney, but he's such an old soul.

"It sucks when you just have one, huh?" he says meaning one parent.

"Juney," I whisper, "you have more than one, you know." I mean us. Me and Dad.

"I have," he takes back his hand and silently counts up, "four plus Dad," he announces. He's added his grandparents.

"And you have," he's doing the math again, "Two plus Charlie."

"Two?"

"Me and Dad."

"Aren't you a little young?"

"Eat," he says very close to my face with Cheeto breath, "your," he says moving in again, "spinach."

He falls beside me and we laugh a little.

I make him go in the bathroom and brush his teeth. I start to get up but he calls, "Don't leave."

So I settle back again. Parkinson's.

He quickly climbs in to bed. "Dad says you're the prettiest girl in Washington."

I don't say anything for a minute while he settles. I know I just found out my dad might have Parkinson's, but I still feel the ridiculous self-centered need to track down this statement. "When…did he say that?"

"The day you went to Chicago," he says. "We were watching you drive away and he just said it—There goes the prettiest girl in Washington."

Okay, this is low, but I ask, "What else?"

He sighs. "I'm not supposed to tell home-stuff."

I thump my fingers against my stomach. "You started it," I say, kidding sort of.

"She's not your mother." He says this in a deeper voice I assume is supposed to be Edward's.

"What?" I get up on my elbow.

"She's got a right to live her life," he's still mimicking. "We need to be happy for her." He's rolling around. "I hate that most of all. I told him I wasn't happy. He wasn't happy either."

I sit up and he's rolled, facing away from me. "He wasn't happy?" I diabolically continue.

"No," Juney says simply. Then I hear him yawn.

"Well…he's happy now…right? Jessica?"

He rolls back and stares at me. "I can't stand her," he whispers.

A little thrill goes through me. But I'm wrong. I'm shit. "Why…why not?"

He rolls away. "He wouldn't want me to say it. She's got this really high laugh. Just like a witch."

I'm happy…and so disappointed. "She can't help it," I say with fake magnanimity.

He rolls back. "She's so annoying. She makes homemade mac and cheese instead of the kind I like in the blue box."

No. This is what he has on her? "Not…so bad," I whisper.

"And this one time…she said, You know what I want for Christmas Edward. And later when he's putting me to bed he sits there…," now it's Edward's voice, "hey bud…we've been on our own a long time. What would you think if I found you a mom?"

My bottom lip is pumping, the way my vagina used to before I heard this story.

"And?" I push because there's no way he's not finishing this.

"And I said, I'd think…well who? Not Jessica."

"And?" I say louder.

"And he said, Well I'll do what's best for this family. And that was the end."

I get on my feet.

"Hey, wait until I'm asleep."

"No. Close your eyes I'm right across the hall."

I hurry back to the crow's nest and go to the window. I'm looking over there. Of course he wouldn't be the type to drag it out. He's not a dater. He's a martyr, but not light about stuff. He'd want to 'get 'er done,' and put a ring on it. A ring. He's going to give her a ring for the holidays. You just watch. He's got it now. It's probably in his sock drawer right this minute.

Then the door opens. It's him. He's in those running shorts and glorious in the light from the streetlamp. Two runs today? One at the crack of dawn, and one now?

And then he looks up, right at me, and waves.


	15. Chapter 15

Look How You Turned Out 15

I already wear knit pants and a t-shirt, so I grab my black sweatshirt with the hood and stick my feet in my tennis shoes.

"Where are you going," Juney says sitting up.

"I'll be right back. Lay down. Charlie's right downstairs."

"Can I lay with him if I get scared?" Juney says.

He knows he can. He's done it many a time, after Charlie falls asleep. Charlie always laughs when he finds Juney curled up like a cat in his bed in the morning.

"I'll be right back," I say.

So I hurry downstairs and go right to the garage cause like I thought, Edward is already running down the street. I go in the side door and nearly kill myself tripping over some stacked flowerpots because Charlie never cleans this place, so I see the bike, Charlie's old police bike, and I get ahold of it and drag and force it out the door. I am running when I hop on and start to pedal, hitting the street and the downward slope of it. I see Edward ahead and I make for him faster than a speeding bullet able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, I'm a bird, I'm a plane.

He must hear my approach. He stops and turns. "Bella?"

I reach him and slam the brakes and the tires screech some, but my foot is down. "Parkinsons," I say.

"Who…Charlie?"

"Juney. Juney told me. Not my dad and not you today at the river. You told me to act enthused…about Billy's. But you neglected to mention…a disease."

"He said…where's Juney?"

"He went to the bar. Where do you think?"

"It's Charlie's to tell. Juney's just a little boy who talks too much."

"Was Dad going to tell me?"

"If he wanted to wait…he didn't ask my opinion."

"You would have let me go back not knowing?"

"I wouldn't have known one way or the other unless you told me."

"What else are you keeping from me?" Sock drawer. Sock drawer.

"You've come home with this attitude…."

"Don't you dare turn this on me. I just found out my dad is sick."

"Doesn't help to blame everyone, especially the people who care the most. About Charlie."

"You're going to lecture me now on how to stomach this news? Maybe I'm sick of never being told anything."

"Never and anything are very conclusive words, Bella."

"Then get this, you never do anything wrong. And I'm sick of it. You're Mr. Know-it-all. Correcting me…how many times now since I've been home? Today at the river, here in the street. This morning, matter of fact on that other run you took. Obsessive much? How you like that word for 'conclusive,' Dad?"

I have my foot on the pedal to take off, but where will that get me?

He puts his hand on the handlebars. His hand, his arm, his shoulder….his neck…jaw, lips, eyes. "Get off," he says.

"What?"

"Just listen, for once."

I am straddling the bike, looking at him. I don't want to do a thing he tells me. I don't want to do anything else.

He wiggles the bike some and the muscles in his arm. I get off. A dog howls…somewhere. It's creepy out here…but I'm not scared, not with him.

I'm standing there and he is graceful, maneuvering himself onto the bike and I think he's going to make me look like a fool if he takes off leaving me on this haunted road all by my bigshot self, but he straddles the bike now and says, "Get on."

He eyes the handlebars between his strong hands. "Don't argue," he says.

I feel so awkward. "I don't know how."

"Turn around."

I do.

"Jump up and sit between my hands."

I put my hands outside of his and I sit between and just a little bit on his hands.

"Don't…." I swallow it. I know he won't let me fall. He never has, not for anything.

But I squeal a little as he pushes off, and he's right there, and I'm right there on his hands, and we go forward into the dark night with the well spaced patches of yellow staining the dark two lane we live on, and I don't have anything else to say, just his breath on my neck sometimes, his voice whispering in my ear, "How's it feel to trust someone Bella?"

I don't answer. You can't ride like this and not smile. I hear him breathe, and my hair must be whipping against the side of his face, but he doesn't complain.

Jesus won't be no Ma to you when your mother's dead, I hear Bob Dylan sing in my head. I don't know why. It sucks to have one parent, Juney says. Parkinson's.

I lean back just a little and feel it then, how he looks over my shoulder, and we're moving a little faster now. He moves his face, probably to fight my hair, and I let go and take hold of it on the side where his face isn't and I hold it then. And we ride like that tires smoothing over the grit on the road.

"Better?" he says softly.

I don't answer. It is better. It's one of the best moments…for a long time…first on the floor with Juney…even with knowing about Dad, Juney's comfort…now this…like I've been bookended between them…big and little. But this one…big…I'm not alone. And if I turned my head, just a little…like so, my forehead against his temple…and he slows down…stops, holds the frame solid and I sit here, my face against the side of his, the feel of his damp skin, his rough beard pushing through. My eyes are closed. "Edward," I whisper.

"It'll be alright," he says low, one hand moving from beneath me to come on my shoulder. "It'll be okay."


	16. Chapter 16

Look How You Turned Out 16

I don't know how long we were out there. When I get back inside I look in Charlie's room and Juney lies across the foot of Charlie's bed wrapped in my blanket. And I'm glad they have each other the big burrito and the little one.

I can't see more than the shape of Dad's head on that pillow. Juney's soft thick hair shows at the top of his blanket.

I'm crushed with love. For them both. Juney hurt when I left, unable to tell me hello at first.

And Dad…he's my dad.

He's always been there for me. All my life, when Mom left, I didn't have to worry. I never did. Charlie was there getting me ready for where I had to go, what I had to do, making sure I brushed my teeth, trying to braid my hair and he got really good at it eventually, cleaning the strawberries off my shirt when I threw up on the way to the fishing hole cause the roads were so windy and up and down. Charlie putting ointment on my scraped knees. Charlie talking to me about Jesus, coming out to Bible camp to see me get dunked. Getting Leah from the station to tell me about the birds and the bees and help me with my first period. Charlie at concerts and plays, snapping pictures, making movies, waiting outside the dressing room while I tried on dresses, or had my feet measured for new shoes, Charlie at all my games…and graduations, middle school, high school, college…then Chicago, his face so proud, the sacrificial relief that he'd sent me out…and I wasn't stuck in Forks.

Dad. How could I live if….

I am standing there too long, tears building and sinuses blocked but I don't make a sound. Finally I pick my way quietly up the stairs, walking in all the solid spots just like in high school. I enter the front bedroom and take a glance out the window, see the dim light on in the back of Edward's house.

I can't keep staring at them…the men in my life…or running from them either while I cry these deep quiet sobs.

I kick off my shoes and fall on that bed once more, a wrung out rag. Holy stars above. The night, the wind, the sky, and him…right there. I touch my neck, my ear, my hair. I cross my arms over my chest and hold onto my shoulders, the edges of myself. My eyes are closed and the feeling is there, so powerful, him near and moving us with his strength.

He said it would be okay. I know he'll be there for Charlie. He's leaving the station ahead of Dad. He's making a place for Charlie to go. It will be okay because he'll make it okay. I think he cares for Charlie almost as much as I do…if it were possible.

Something has opened between us…mutual love…for Dad. We've had it for Juney…though not as strong from me. I've run from that too mostly. I knew what Edward wanted…my help. But I'm nobody's mother…a kid myself. That's what I used to think.

But I'm not a kid now.

Edward and I, same boat, his hands on the oars. He's rowing. He's never stopped. Like I said, moving us with his strength.

I've only been home one whole day. Truth is I came home in shame…but I couldn't get here fast enough…soon enough. I thought I had to make it in Chicago. He wanted me to go out and make it big…Charlie did. He always told me I had to get out in the big world and see what it held. It's what Mom wanted…why she left, he said. She got trapped here beneath the wet blanket of Forks.

He'd been telling me this since I started school. And I excelled at school. He said that was a sign, I was meant for more than Forks, Washington. I had that something…like her.

Well I tried, Dad. I tried. And I left Forks with my heart in my throat, and I came back the same way. I'm not so worldly Dad. Not like you think. I prefer it small, one on one conversations over crowds. Time to stay quiet and think. Knowing the people I live around, knowing them…and their sons and daughters, even their pets. I like small grocery store and second hand shops where we recycle one another's lives and traditions and saying hi to my waitress and leaving her a fiver because we went to school together and I know she's got that kid…by that no-good guy just like you had me with Mom…and Edward…and Juney.

Dear Dad…maybe I'm more like you.

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

"This hair has such a mind of its own. It must grow right out of your brain," I say to Juney as I attempt to comb his random style.

"Dad says all I can do is keep it short," Juney says. Cute as his hair is, it's the back of his neck that gets me, the skin so soft…something vulnerable and sweet.

I remember when he was a baby, that soft little neck, kissing him there and he'd laugh.

Juney is looking at me in the mirror. I smile at him, and he's staring at me. "You're too pretty for words," I tell him.

"Pretty?" he says a little too loudly and he storms out.

"Yeah pretty. Deal with it," I call.

I look myself over, jeans and my black hoodie again cause it's kind of lucky. My heavier jacket is hanging by the door. Edward. What does he see…in me?

I feel a little shy seeing Edward after last night. We're going food shopping, Edward, Juney and me. Edward is using up some accumulated vacation days. And Juney's done with school until after the holiday. So we're traveling all the way to the city so we can do some serious shopping. I hope he knows I'm driving. I can't stand his old truck and the way he grinds through the gears like a grampa.

I have typed a list into my phone. It's substantial. Charlie left me two hundred and fifty and I'll probably spend all of it because he doesn't have much of the good stuff on hand with me being gone half the year.

"You're handsome enough," I tell Juney as I meet him downstairs. He looks so cute in his little baggy jeans and his button up shirt, and his Redskins jacket over that. Esme. She makes sure he's styling. It doesn't matter a crumb to Edward.

Outside we have a moment of sun and it hits Juney's hair. He's more red than brown, but Edward says he was too. Currently Edward's mane is longer than ever, longer than Charlie would normally allow one of his guys. But then, what' he going to do, fire Edward?

Juney has already texted and Edward is standing by his truck, keys in his hand. Awkward is covered by me saying, "Oh no. I'm driving."

He's shaking his head. "Like hell." He opens the door and gets behind the wheel and I see him scrambling to move his shit off the seat. It's an old argument.

"Just let him," Juney tells me. "He likes to be in control."

"Where'd you get that?" I say, amazed that Juney's like Dr. Phil.

"Jessica," he says, running ahead.

Oh yeah. I sigh and follow after, about to prove that bitch's point I guess. But he's with me now.


	17. Chapter 17

Look How You Turned Out 17

Your father will do the best he can when your mother is dead.—Bob Dylan (Motherless Children)

We won't be buying a frozen turkey, that is for sure. Charlie orders domestically raised turkeys from a local poultry farmer that frequents Billy's. He does this every year. And every year it goes like this, one in the oven one on the pit cause he invites the force and a few cronies from Billy's who don't have other plans. That's how we picked up newly divorced Edward and his sidekick. Edward had bought the house across the street to be near his single parent role model Charlie. So yeah, we need a couple of turkeys the size of Big Bird.

That first year Angela split, Charlie told me they were coming over, Edward and the kindergarten baby and I declared, "I ain't babysitting."

Hey, only child here. Unlike so many girls my age I never took to kids. Not the mothering type. Those were my excuses anyway. I considered it might garner me another teaspoon full of Edward's attention, but more likely I'd end up watching Juney while some other drooling female grabbed his attention.

But at seventeen I already knew…he was a monk. So life with the adults suited me fine. That's where the good stuff was, the stories, the jokes, football. Edward the monk. That's where I wanted to be. I didn't mind cooking, I loved that and the immediate gratification it brought, but chase after your own brats people.

But Juney was so adorable…and I had watched him some over those first five years while Edward and Angela went through 'difficulties.' Well it didn't change me very much…Juney's off the charts cute factor-but it did a little cause even I couldn't resist him, those missing front teeth and the freckles, the game of Life, his little hand moving the car around the board, a mother and father represented by pegs in the plastic game-piece seats, kids in the back, sweet dreams, dream a little dream, I have a dream, dream on.

Juney and I were the two motherless. We knew that. Angela taught Juney young that she wouldn't be around much. It started after the pregnancy with pain killers. That's what I heard. Edward drew the line on street heroin.

She went back where she came from, left the big and the little bleeding a little in her rearview mirror.

Now Juney takes his backpack in the house. I am going over my list, not that I need to, but Edward and I are in the truck waiting and…well I'm thinking of that long ride last night. And right now, we've already done the innocuous stuff like him asking if Juney slept and me saying yes he did. Him asking if I saw Charlie before he went to the station, me saying I hadn't. Him asking if I'm going to do all the cooking again or let people bring things, me saying they can bring what they want, doesn't change my full menu in the slightest. Him saying he's going to help me, me blowing through my lips like 'yeah right' when what I really mean is 'I certainly hope so.'

Him telling me Jessica won't be home until Sunday. She's doing Black Friday with her group in Florida. "She wanted to meet you," he says.

"Why?"

"Juney talks about you."

"Oh, Juney."

He clears his throat.

"Don't…be awkward," I say softly.

"It is awkward. I don't know why. I waited long enough. What does everyone want from me?"

"Everyone? Is there a mob calling for your blood or something?"

He pretends to ignore that. "She's used to doing what she wants." Then he laughs. "I am too." He laughs again but keeps looking out the drivers' side window. "Oh fuck me," he says.

Traditionally he's not used the f-word in my presence until this visit. Guess he thinks I'm all grown up.

I feel his eyes on me a couple of times but my hood is up and my eyes are down and I can be the mute monk on those two points alone—a mute monk on high alert pretending to read her store list.

"Sorry I said she was a hundred," I offer, just to keep the old ball rolling.

He laughs a little. "She's only a couple years older than me."

"Okay, half a hundred. Just kidding. Why her though?"

He pinches the back of my hood and pulls it back so he can see my face. He's exasperated. "If Juney said something about her…I told you. He's giving her a hard time."

"But really…is she your type? She's…not, right? Making real mac and cheese? That's not you."

He looks confused. "If dependable and hard-working are my type then she is my type."

"Are we talking about your girlfriend or a set of tires?"

He's not amused. He wants to give me a ticket or something. "Bella…she's nothing like Angela. I know you might think I can't pick a good one…after Angela…but Angela didn't start out that way…awful."

"No offense…but there's a lot of stops in-between new tires (Jessica) and a flat tire (Angela). Don't be like…an extremist."

He almost laughs. "What? I can't…talk to you about this."

"You can. Do you guys have…like chemistry? I…can' see it."

"You don't know her first of all. Second of all…that's pretty personal, right?"

"Riiiiight," I say all Dr. Evil.

He rubs his hand over his mouth. "Answer me first…what happened in Chicago. And don't tell me 'nothing.'."

"Double negative," I sing-song. "I don't have to say now."

"What?" he says…interrogating the perp.

I get a little teary eyed thinking of all the crying I've done all over him already. "I got fired," I say quickly.

He sits up.

It's always about being a cop with these guys. "I don't want to talk about it," I say quickly. "And don't tell Charlie."

"Why'd they fire someone like you?"

I shake my head. He's been listening to Charlie's propaganda for too long.

Juney pulls the door. I'm relieved I told him. Relieved, and a little sorry.

"Are you staying?" he continues.

I get out to let Juney in and I get in again and slam the door.

"Hey," he says eyes intense over Juney's head. I have his attention now. I have it like never before. We have never looked at one another for so long or so unguardedly. I know he wants an answer. He wants something.

Juney looks from Edward to me. "What?" he asks, open to either of us answering.

"I don't know," I say so he'll start the truck already. I can't go back, but I left it untied. And I'm not ready to say. I have to speak to Dad first. The hits just keep on coming.

He's muttering as he starts his truck. He looks at me again and again, but I ignore him, when I'm not staring back, over Juney's spiky little head.

"You guys keep looking at each other," Juney says like a dope.

"I can't believe how ugly your dad is," I say, and Juney laughs, and I do, but Edward just keeps driving and grinding his teeth and looking at me.

1111111111111111111111111111111111111

We've sang songs, Juney and me, I've shown him most of the interesting apps on my phone. We've talked about Mine-Craft and Angry Birds and four-wheelers and how a real zombie plague could start and the new series of books he's reading.

And pretty soon we stop outside of Litchfield and we go into a diner Edward likes there and Juney and I sit across from him pouring over the menu.

Edward has taken black coffee and he doesn't even look at a menu. "What are you getting?" I ask.

"Eggs benedict," he says like it's a no-brainer.

"Must be nice to have your mind made up…about everything," I say.

He just looks at me. He has these four well placed freckles. He takes another sip of coffee and licks his lips. His eyes are so serious.

"What?" I say before biting the slice of lemon that came on the lip of my tea glass.

"That explains it," he says, noting the lemon.

"She's a sour puss," Juney laughs.

I put the rind in front of my lips to make a smile but Edward doesn't smile and Juney wishes he could get a slice of lemon.

So we're playing around like that and I let Juney play with my phone after he and I order. We settle in to wait then. I shove Juney's placemat toward Edward and with a red crayon I put an 'x' in the graph for tic-tac-toe. He picks up the black crayon and we play again and again and I kick his ass some and he kicks mine, then I play Juney, then Edward does and they bring the food.

Everything is good and massive portions and we are enjoying it, and I ask Edward if I can taste the sauce pooling around his eggs and he says, "you got your own food," and I offer him some strawberry pancake in exchange for some sauce, so I fill a spoon for him and he does for me and we swap the spoons. Then he lets Juney taste too and we both say we'll get that next time and Edward looks at me again.

Will there be a next time? Not like this. Not with her in the picture. I'm not giving him Chicago when he can't offer up hair-bitch.

Geez Louise, it's only the second full day. I'm moving fast again. So I don't quite finish my food, and Juney finishes his, Edward too. They're both happier now that they've eaten. Edward insists on paying. I hope it's not because he pities the jobless.

As we leave the restaurant Juney takes my hand. I look back at Edward and catch him staring at my ass. He smiles at me. He unlocks my door and pulls it open and Juney hops in. Before I can he says low, "The thing about you women…can't nail a one of you down to make a plan."

"Can't imagine why a woman wouldn't stand still for the nail," I say, wiggling my eyebrows at him before I get in.

He slams the door and I take a quick look through the glass. He has intercourse eyes. I mean…they penetrate me to such a degree that I'm hypnotized. I flutter my fingers at him and he walks around and gets in.

It would be unfortunate if he was to compare me to say…Angela or Jessica, or any other living or dead woman walking planet earth. We're not all Eggs Benedict.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111

Naturally Edward pushes the cart at the store. We make a cute little family, I guess. I've gotten a few 'lucky bitch' looks from the females crowding this market place.

I've got a list. We get to the bakery and Edward thinks I should buy the pies and save myself the work. I'm glad he doesn't have an 'old saying' about women and pies. This woman makes hers.

Juney thinks we should have chicken strips instead of turkey.

"You like turkey," I remind him. But he says he likes chicken strips more.

I'm bent over looking at noodles when it happens, the nudge of the cart. No big deal. It's crowded. I figure it has something to do with Juney but he's down the aisle talking to a kid he knows. So I look at Edward and notice he's done it on purpose. "You got the city out of your craw?" he says.

I'm holding a box of noodles, but I straighten and I'm looking at him. "What's a craw?"

"I'll show you sometime…on the turkey."

I ignore the question. Like I said, I'm not giving him Chicago. Yet.


	18. Chapter 18

Look How You Turned Out 18

Celery, onions, four loaves of cheap-ass white bread. Potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, green beans. Our cart is loaded like one of the pyramids, full of everything we need for the afterlife.

Juney is holding a red box in front of my face—Stove Top. "It's so, so, so, so good," he tells me.

"Juney," Edward corrects, "go put that back."

"But this is what you make," he says to Edward offering me a chance to make Jessica's mistake and 'not take the box.'

I let Edward be 'bad cop' and I continue to walk a little in front of him as we head for the checkout line.

"You should know that thing by heart," Edward says meaning my list.

"Once I get home I'm not coming out again. It's cook time, baby." I'm smiling but I'm thinking oh shit, did I just call Edward the apostle Baby? Yep.

"Me and Dad are helping," Juney says.

"You too?"

"I could make Stove Top," Juney says.

"Is that why you wanted to buy it?" I say.

"Yes," Juney says shooting a look at Edward.

"Junior," Edward says, like 'come on man.'

"I do," Juney continues.

"Then go get it," I say. But Edward is disapproving and we have a little stare off as Juney runs for the box. "What?"

"You staying in Forks now?"

"Oh no. We're talking Stove Top…me usurping your parental authority. I didn't say a word about Chicago."

We take our place in one of several long check-out lines.

"What happened with your job?" he says.

"Unt-uh," I say.

"Edward?" She blind-sides us. Short, complicated hair-cut of various levels. Daughter on her hip and plenty of room for the kid to ride. I know it's mean, but the way she's checking me out, it's like I'm caught shop-lifting.

He doesn't say anything. Just looks at her.

"Did you hear from Jessica?" She's talking to him, looking at me. Her daughter has her hand on her mother's face trying to get her attention. That's not happening.

Thing is, these days, they've all heard from Jessica. It's called technology.

"Yeah," he finally says. "She's having a great time."

Oh good for her, I think, but I forget to clap.

I'll give him this, he doesn't seem ruffled in the least that he's been caught red-handed keeping company with another vagina. I flip my hair around a little and try to look bored…because I am.

"Oh you shopping?" she says still ignoring the kid.

Now…come on. I just smile and say, "Bella Swan."

"Charlie's daughter?" She says so loudly people from the next two aisles are craning their necks to look at me.

Edward has this smirk in place. He knows he didn't introduce us. He either didn't think she was worth it, or he didn't think I was worth it…or being male he didn't think at all.

Juney is back with the box of Stove Top. He's panting like he took the long way at full speed. He has Stove Top and a box of fudgesicles.

"We can eat them in the truck. Two apiece," he announces.

I high-five him before Edward can say anything.

The woman strings some more vowels and consonants together about where he's spending Thanksgiving with these looks at me like she knows I'll not only cook turkey but give lap dances during football. Fake smile at him, a look for me like she's memorizing my vitals, still ignoring the sad kid on her hip, phone in hand, already pressing buttons, she starts to walk away. Then she turns and snaps a picture. Of me. Then she's really making time toward the other side of the store.

I make a sound and Edward says, "What?" And I say, "She took my picture."

"She did not," Edward scoffs.

"She did too," Juney says.

"Want me to go after her?" Edward says, perfectly serious.

"And do what? Grab her phone and smash it?" me

"I'll ask her why she took it." him

"You don't know?" I say.

"Do you?"

"Yes. She's one of the Orcs getting ready to text Saruman in Florida." I know he gets this…Juney does, appreciating my wit and realizing for the first time we are the Hobbits.

"Well you can't blame Jessica for what Sherri does." We've finally reached the counter and Edward is practically throwing things on the conveyor belt.

But what's funny… Edward's phone buzzes from in his pocket and I shoot Juney a look and we high-five again and Edward is looking at his phone, pensive face, lips pressed tight but moving side to side…interesting I admit.

"She's wasn't even listening to her kid," Juney says. He would notice. The wounded motherless have an eye for such things.

Edward puts his phone in his pocket and doesn't even look at me as he makes his way around me and it's close, people all around us, and he rubs on me a little, my ass in particular, and his hand on my arm and he says, "Excuse me," low, and he goes to the checker.

"She get my good side?" I say while I continue to unload and Juney laughs.

But no, Edward Cullen just got my good side and it's still tingling like someone plugged my thong into a 320 outlet.

But he's got his wallet out.

"I have money," I say.

"I got this," he says, and he's smiling while he digs through his wallet, not looking repentant at all.

I make my way next to him while Juney finishes the cart.

"Edward, I'm paying."

The checker says the total, looking tired as hell, but she's eying him like a Lazy-boy chair.

He hands her his card, and I've got my money now, crushed in my hand like week-old lettuce, but good none the less.

"Put that away," he says about the lettuce.

"Charlie's gonna make you take it," I say.

He's taking the receipt and putting it back in his wallet with his card.

"Bull-headed," I mutter. No way he's paying for all of this.

"Takes one to know one," he mutters back calling to Juney who's found his friend again in the line beside us. Juney catches up to me and slips his hand in mine. I don't know when he got one of the fudgesicles, but he's licking away.

I'm staring at the back of Edward's head, the back of his jacket, the back of his…jeans as he pushes the cart toward the doors. My guess? He's got a new screen-saver.


	19. Chapter 19

Look How You Turned Out 19

"You in trouble?" I ask as I meet Edward in the unloading of the many, many bags of groceries onto Charlie's table. I'm talking about what went down in the grocery. It's the first few seconds we've been alone.

He plays dumb. I know he's playing because he sets the bags down and touches his jacket's pocket where his phone resides. It's been vibrating so often he's turned it off not far outside of Litchfield.

He doesn't have special ringtones. Thank God. I didn't want to hear Countdown by Beyonce or something else she programed into his phone to represent herself. I'd have to walk away and leave him to her. Or do a serious, painful intervention.

But he's not contaminated that way at least.

He goes back outside without answering and I follow. Juney is bringing in a box of bottled water. He has a fudgesicle ring around his lips, and he's oblivious, hunching his shoulders against his manly load. Edward holds the door for him and he maneuvers in under Edward's arm. I am right there, behind Edward. "Wash your mouth," I say.

"Dad already told me," he sighs.

We walk to the lowered tailgate. Edward leaps up to move the rest of the bags to the gate so we can reach them easily. It's an interesting view I have here on the ground. As previously stated, all angles work.

"Are you?" I repeat having been ignored.

"Am I what?" he says jumping lightly to the ground.

"In trouble?"

He only looks at me briefly before grabbing more bags and heading in.

"Hey," I call. He turns.

"Ear-check," I say.

He smirks and goes in. He's in trouble.

In the kitchen there is now stuff everywhere. Edward goes out for the last load and I open the pantry and look inside. No,no and no. My entire system has been haphazardly rearranged by my father while I've been gone. I energetically, because I have some frustration to work off, start to tackle the chaos. Cereals are top shelf. Baking supplies next. Now we have jars of things, jars and bottles. Canned goods don't belong in here at all, they have their own place in the cabinets. Next we have pastas and beans, and lastly boxes of tea and all the weird stuff that doesn't go anywhere else. Finally towards the bottom the plastic wrap and foil and all that crap, and on the door all the spices which I also pluck from the wrong lines and move to the right ones. There. Now that isn't so hard. I stand back to admire my work.

He's behind me sort of, at the island, his hands there and he's staring at me, he's been staring at me and I've probably looked from behind like I'm conducting an orchestra playing Flight of the Bumblebee or something.

"What's the matter?" I say because he looks so serious and thoughtful and thoughtfully serious.

"I don't…get in trouble. I'm not Juney."

He's right, he doesn't have a moustache around his…lips.

I'm smiling.

"What's so funny?" he says.

"Nothing. Just…seeing how clean your…mouth is." I'm laughing a little.

He takes a couple of seconds to get it. "Yeah. But you hear me? I don't want that nonsense. I'm seeing Jessica. Yes. But I can still live my life. I'm not apologizing for it."

"Okay," I say like I'd say 'chill out,' because he needs to. I'm not the bitch busting his balls. Well, not overtly. But I want more. I want more. "So…I'm not asking you to…apologize."

"I didn't say you were," he says grabbing a can of pumpkin and not making a whole lot of sense. "Where does this go?"

I point to the cabinet and he opens it and starts to shove the pumpkin in.

"No, no," I say upon seeing the disorganized state of things there too. I can only imagine the frig. I go to the cabinet and start my crazy. He's right there. Like right, right there.

"Up here, vegetables," I'm saying by way of explanation as I set the dozen cans of broccili and cheese soup, Dad's favorite, on the counter and start to put the green beans up there. "This stuff probably gave him Parkinson's," I say.

I have yet to have a chance to speak to Dad about his health, and it's there, and we're quiet for a minute and Edward starts to help me, pulling canned vegetables out and wisely setting them on the counter in groups. He bumps my shoulder and mutters sorry, then bumps it again playfully. He's almost smiling.

"Sorry I called her Sauroman," I say, always having something I can fake-apologize for to garner his sympathy and get him talking. We're real close and he's looking at me like…he takes me in. Feels like he really sees me…the pores on my skin maybe. I need Biore.

"You're a little crazy," he says, "you know that? Always have been. It's…interesting to me and I don't know why. You hurry around…."

I have finished his sentence mentally—I hurry around like a little mouse. Thank God he doesn't compare me to a rodent. He just…quits.

"Is that like…a complement…or a testimony for the prosecuting attorney?" I'm thinking the prosecutor is Jessica, but really it's him, his own indictment against himself for finding me 'interesting.'

"No idea," he breathes in, a huge breath and lets it out in a gust as he continues to run a hand over my cans (note the s) making sure all the labels face frontwards.

"We might have a compatible level of OCD," I say admiring his work…and his hand.

"So much in common," he mutters. He turns to the bags then, scouring for more cans and more…perfection.

And I have to admit, he's right. We have everything in common, including the interest. "I find you interesting too," I say. I don't know where I'm going with this…well wherever he'll let me.

"How's that?" he says, holding those lucky cans against his chest, his hand fanned against them.

"I…you raised Juney…all the way through. And you didn't even date…until…,"

He cuts me off and says, "After Angela…I owed him my undivided attention…right?"

He's not asking. He knows it was right.

"Was it hard?" Is he hard? That's the real question, but I put it the other way.

"No," he says tersely.

"What…um how did you finally give yourself the green light…with Jessica?"

I count to freaking six before he answers. "She cut my hair."

I have a million smart ass things come to mind, but I make…force myself to stay focused.

"And…that led to…?"

He stops messing with the food and says defensively, "To what?"

"What?"

"To what?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"It led to me asking her out. Or…her asking me for a drink." He's holding celery. He grabs carrots and squeezes around me to the fridge.

I turn and weedle in beside him. "Oh God."

"What?" he says. "You're standing in front of the drawer.

"No way that's ready to go in," I say, and I'm doing it. Dairy on the top. I'm taking off and putting on. He's standing there with a bouquet of vegetables. I laugh a little.

"It was spring. She asked if I wanted to go for a drink. I said let me think about it. She kept calling me. I went clear to Litchfield for my next haircut," he's laughing. "Then the next time I needed one I didn't have time to go so far. So I went in and she was worried she'd scared me off." He's laughing again, looks at me and I'm just standing there looking at him. I'm not laughing. It's just not funny. So he quits laughing and hands me the bouquet. "I don't know what the hell you want."


	20. Chapter 20

Look How You Turned Out 20

This is at The Lemonade Stand. Thanks Edmazing. And thanks readers.

"I'd like you to chop those and we'll bag them," I say meaning the carrots and celery.

He's doing that deep look again. "So fucking stubborn," he whispers, turning to the sink where he commences to wash the vegetables.

I have to get away from him for a minute. Just a minute, and not too far. But I need a break. In the hall I lean on the wall and put my hand over my hammering heart. She asked for a ring this Christmas. That's all I can think.

"What are you doing?"

It's Edward. He's caught me standing there.

I'm holding my heart together, what does he think?

"Just…being interesting." I use my ass to push off the wall and stand there a second. Then I go in search of Juney. That one is in the living room, feet over the back of the couch, head hanging all the way to the floor, game controller in hand as he works his way through video world. The ring is still around his mouth. "Hey, you better wash your face like your dad said."

"I will," he answers without taking his eyes off the screen. When I don't move off he pauses and does a backward somer-sault to the floor and grins at me. He gets on his skinny legs and barrels off for the bathroom.

I return to the kitchen, hearing the knife on the board before I even enter the room.

Now there is a domestic scene to die for. Edward at the island, towel over his shoulder working the knife. Oh the holidays.

He's got this look for me, cop duty or something, hyper aware of me. I smile but I'm not entirely comfortable with it. I mean, I want his attention but not his worry.

I grab the bag of onions and sit on the stool Charlie keeps there for when he cooks. I am around the island's corner on Edward's right. I grab a knife and slit the net bag and pick my first victim.

"What was it like in Chicago?" he says. Chop, chop.

"Cold. It was getting cold when I left. Twenty-two." Chop.

I know he could learn as much off the weather channel.

"Oh yeah? Would that be unseasonable cold or the norm," he says. His sarcasm sounds just like his regular conversation so it's hard to tell.

"I had this apartment…in a building that people probably tried to get out of as they moved up the ladder…like in the sixties or something. But now it's been refurbished."

"I've seen pictures," he said.

"Facebook?"

"Charlie. And maybe some Facebook…from Charlie."

"Yeah, it was tiny, like living in a model of what an apartment might be if it was…bigger."

He laughed.

"And it was…I felt kind of cool, you know? I had a twin bed and there's this big store called Ikea and everything is cheap…but cool. You have to put it together though. But I got pretty good at it."

"Yeah, Charlie said that."

"Yeah." I stop chopping and move off to get us each a soda. I don't have to ask him what he wants…Diet Dr. Pepper. Yawn.

When I straighten, he does too, and he's chopping with more dedication. I set his soda in front of where he works and pop mine, take a long sip and get back to work. "I loved the view from my office. Twelve stories. I could see Lake Michigan."

"Yeah."

"Sure you want to hear all this…again?"

"Go on."

"Well, coffee shops right there, and neat little bistros with cool things like peppers stuffed with goat cheese and sushi. I don't know. It was great."

He stops the chop. He's peeling onions now. "Why are you here?" He has over-pronounced each word.

I over-pronounce, "I want to be here. It's Thanksgiving. I am always here for Thanksgiving."

He smirks knowing I mock him. "You know what I mean."

I do. I purse my lips and move them side to side a few times. He's like, hypnotized. Or disgusted.

"I got let go from my job. So I came home…wagging my tail behind me."

"You told me that. But where is all your stuff? In your car?"

"Yes. All that's left. The rest was carried off by a neighbor." I don't say, 'for fifty dollars.' I don't want him to think I'm irresponsible.

"So you're staying?"

I bite my lip. "Not sure."

"Are you going back?" Just like a cop to ask the same damn question a whole new way.

"No."

"Are you going somewhere else? You're making me work awfully hard, Swan."

"You cops love to interrogate. I don't know yet. Or what. It feels…good to be home. I might even…live here."

"Might?"

"What do you want from me?" I really mock now.

"You don't know what you're going to do," he says.

"That's about it. Except now I find my dad…."

"Your dad is fine. If he gets wind you're staying for him, he'll be upset."

"Are you trying to talk me in to leaving?"

"You said you couldn't imagine spending your life here."

That was because of him, not Forks. I couldn't imagine living in his blind spot for the rest of my life, marrying there, having children there, possibly watching him move on, like I knew he would, someday.

"Maybe I have a better imagination…now."


	21. Chapter 21

Look How You Turned Out 21

We order pizza for supper. By eight we've done all we can until tomorrow, the day before the feast. So tomorrow it gets real. But for now, we've crumbed the four loaves of bread and everything is chopped. Charlie's brought the turkeys home and Edward has shown me the craw just like he promised.

Juney begs to stay again and Edward says, "No, you need to go home."

And Juney begs and I intervene and Edward relents. But first Juney must go home and clean up and get ready for bed then he can come back.

"Dad," I say after the Cullens leave and the house seems a little deflated, "Juney mentioned something about a medical condition…you have."

"Oh now," Charlie scoffs from his recliner, snapping the newspaper he still reads in half, "what'd he say?"

Dad's not going to make this easy. He's still hoping I just heard about his high cholesterol. "Parkinson's?"

"Yeah I was going to tell you before you had to go back to Chicago," he says.

"Well I hope so," I say, a little sternly. But I don't feel stern. Not really. I feel like I want to cry. I'm staring at his hands and the one has a little shaking in the fingers. I love those hands…my whole life has come from…those hands. They're strong, indestructible. This is my dad. I hate Parkinson's or any disease that thinks it can weaken…those hands.

"Come here," Dad says, and I end up kneeling by his feet with my head on his leg and having that cry afterall. I had meant to be positive, but I can revert to Juney's age real quickly around my dad.

"I'm sorry," I say after a couple of minutes. I'm sniffing and he grabs a Kleenex off the box on the end table.

So I wipe my nose and I end up sitting there looking at him like a puppy, a big puppy. Boy it's been a long day.

"I'm your dad."

"I know."

"Nothing is going to lick me."

"I know."

"People live for years with this."

"I know. Google," I say softly.

He reaches to stroke my hair. My dad tells me he loves me all the time. He's always been affectionate with me. I know it doesn't come naturally, but he's worried that I haven't had a mother. The day I graduated college, I thought he'd pop a couple buttons he looked so proud. He has no idea that I'm really a loser. He has no idea that he is my sun and without him I whither.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I ah…I'm not going back to Chicago."

The petting stops. He doesn't withdraw his hand, but it's frozen there.

"Why not?"

"I…I want to be here…in Forks. I want to stay in Forks."

"Oh no you don't." He pulls his hand away now and I sit my ass on the floor by his feet and wipe my face and look at him. I radiate patheticness so I hope he goes easy.

"What?" me

"You are not," he says not with force, "staying here."

"You…don't want me?" Blink, blink.

"Of course I…what happened? Did something happen? Were you…oh God, were you…?"

"No! No. No." Why does he always go there? I wasn't raped.

He looks dazed as he sits back. Even the thought has his hand shaking a little more. I lift my ass and grab his hand and hold it to my cheek.

He pulls away. "Isabella look at me."

I settle on my knees, hands folded over my belly-button and I look.

"What about your job?" Dad always looks so hopeful when he tries logic on me. It kind of breaks my heart that he never loses hope I can be reasoned with on his terms.

"What job?"

He stares. He can read people. Just not me.

"The job you went to Chicago for. Black Enterprises?" He's so patient. Behind that moustache…mercy.

"I um…I don't have it…anymore."

He's sitting straighter. "What did you do with it?"

"Nothing I…I lost it."

I have his eyes. I can see what a responsibility they are now, looking into his. Edward's penetrate and that's something else entirely, something I'm almost ashamed to think about right now. But Dad's eyes radiate faith. He's not searching for the truth. He can't imagine I'd hide anything. Dad doesn't just believe me, he believes IN me.

So I'm dying a little. For us both.

"Why?" he finally asks.

"It was a conflict of interest between myself…and my boss. That's how he put it."

"And what was that conflict of interest?" Dad has seen it all, pretty much. But with me he's so easily bewildered.

"I…wouldn't marry him."

"You mean to tell me…that's harassment!"

"No," I breathe. "It's…he didn't do it with malice, Dad. He did it…as a favor."

"What? A favor to himself! Does he know who he's messing with?" Dad loves to say that. We Swans are not to be messed with.

"It was…Dad I just don't want to talk about it. I will…maybe. But now…I just want to be home. I just want to be with my dad."

And Edward. Juney. Dad, Edward, Juney. My men. Sort of.


	22. Chapter 22

Look How You Turned Out 22

Juney comes over, scrubbed shiny and in a big T-shirt and knit pants and moccasins. He's carrying a bag of his stuff, and the pillow that's really a teddy bear disguised as a pillow.

"Moving in?" I ask seeing him setting the living room for an all-night party. He even has his own Cheetos.

Charlie has a sport's program on. I figure Juney will be good for him while he digests the hand grenade I threw in his lap when I told him about my reality show in Chicago.

After the conversation with Dad I made the dough for my pies and wrapped it and set it in the fridge. I need a break, and some air. If I smoked I'd need a cigarette, but since I don't, I eat a Twinkie.

I'm licking my fingers and holding my hoodie under my arm as I head for the front door. Charlie and Juney are in a deep discussion about that duck show they both love. I slip out the front door.

He's over there maybe. I have no idea. I'm walking. So I put my hands in my pocket in front of my sweatshirt and I swear he opens the door dressed like me and he sees me and pulls up his hood as he closes the door and I am reaching the end of my walkway as he's reaching his and we both go left and walk side by side down the middle of the dark moonlit street.

"They're watching the duck thing," I say.

He laughs a little, says 'shit' under his breath.

"You talk to him?" him

"Some. He's tough." me

"Pick it up," Edward says and I increase my pace.

"I have to take almost two steps to your one," I complain.

"I'll keep that in mind," he says. "You want equal rights, Swan, this is it."

"Yeah? When you can make a baby, Cullen, let me know." I'm trying not to sound consumptive.

"Been there, done that, Swan," he says easy.

"Oh yeah? You push him out?"

"Put him in."

Oh, the world blows up, right there. Did he really want to say that? Take us there?

Oh.

"That was bad," he laughs, slow then louder. He has to stop and bend over. Then he straightens up quick and easily catches up to me.

"Hey…it's Juney. You get a pass," I say pretending to be cool about him…putting it in. I am jealous, but what good is that? I may be ten years old with Charlie, but here I have to get real.

"A pass for making the most unfortunate marriage…."

"You have Juney," I say again.

"I got what I deserved but he deserved better."

"Looks pretty healthy to me."

"C'mon. We both know it hurts him not having a mom."

We're jogging now. I have never been a jogger until coming home.

"Maybe it hurts you more." me

"Nah."

"Not gonna lie…it sucks sometimes…but lots of kids don't have moms. Think globally Cullen. Lots of kids without moms and they grow up to be good people. Maybe even great people. A good dad…you know that."

We don't say anything for a while, just the dig of our feet on the road, breathing…gasping in my case.

I have to stop. "I…can't…," I am bent over, hands on knees.

"C'mon," he comes back for me, takes my arm and pulls up and I stand. "We'll walk a while."

I nod and he lets go and we both bury our hands in our pouches and continue.

"You didn't deserve it either…Angela."

"We married too quick. Have to admit, didn't see the drugs coming."

"I was pretty young…but I could see how torn up you were."

"I hate that I was so torn up. I don't know why I tried so long. That wasn't good for Juney."

"Wow. You really do feel sorry for Juney don't you?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't I?"

"I just wonder if Dad feels that way for me…sorry? No wonder I got by with so much. I mean…does he think I'm so great or is he just sorry for me? I mean…God I hope not."

We're quiet for a while. "You're right," he says finally.

"Yeah. Stop doing that to him," I say, like I know anything about raising a kid. But I know this. "You can't change the past. You know that, right?"

He laughs a little. "I do now."

We're quiet some more, then, "Hey Swan, if life hands you lemons, make lemonade."

I laugh a little too. "You think of that all by yourself?"

"Well…yeah."

"You're like…a guru," I say, and he takes off then. "No," I whisper-call into the night. This is a more deserted part of the road and he's leaving me? And I can't run anymore. I made pie dough for six pies for crying out loud and that Twinkie is sitting like a brick.

But he's soon back. And I'm opposite side of the road walking toward home. He comes along. "I couldn't stand going that slow. Sorry."

"It must be fabulous to be you," I say. Well, it must be.

"Yeah, the grass is not greener," he says. "He ask you about Chicago?"

I crane my neck to take a look at him. "Smooth."

He shrugs. "Well?"

"We talked about it. No big deal."

"You tell him you're staying here?"

"Am I?" Should I?

He's on the cusp of saying something.

"You read those texts that kept coming since Litchfield? Those texts and phone calls?" I'm not as smooth as he is but I get it done.

"Hey. You're Charlie's whole deal. He worships you." He's not so smooth either. Ignored me again.

"Blind. Blind worship. It's a terrible responsibility sometimes…living up to it."

"He knows. You're not perfect. He loves you."

"Loves me? After what Mom did to him…he hasn't moved on. I…I can't make it up to him. I had to go away, you know? Then he gets Parkinson's."

He laughs a little. "First off…the Parkinson's…really Bella? Forget that. The rest…you're talking about me, right? Haven't moved on?"

"So you're trying…with Jessica? Is she it for you?"

I hear the air whoosh out of him. "Bella…what can I say that isn't…unfair to her?"

"You let her into your life. That's a first."

"You know why."

"No I don't. Why her? You said she cuts your hair. Is that it? Cut your hair you…give her a ring?"

He looks sharply at me. "A ring? Where'd you hear that?"

I'm not throwing my source under the bus again.

"I guess…is it this serious?" me

"You asked that already."

"Okay…do you love her?"

"Bella."

"What?"

"I'm not saying that. C'mon, pick it up."

"No. I don't want to pick it up. You go on."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"Why not? I left you, didn't I? I went all the way to Chicago!"

"You didn't leave me. What are you talking about?"

"I don't want it to be weird between us…but…I feel like I did leave you…and Juney."

He looks at the sky and closes his eyes and says, "In college you already…."

"It wasn't the same," a mountain is moving in me, no, no, a volcano is rumbling. "You always knew I was coming back then. Chicago was different."

He's looking at me again. The so in control veneer is cracking. "Where in the world did you get the idea I didn't want you to go? That makes me some kind of…where did you get such an idea?"

"I didn't. I mean…well…you…did you…."

"Bella you can't be serious? I have been so careful…."

"Careful? Yes you have. Yes you have been so careful. Why? Why have you needed to be so careful?"

He doesn't have an answer that he'll share. Yet.

"Are you being careful now?"

"About what?"

"Careful…about us. Are you still being careful?"

"Us? You and me."

I look around at the creepy darkness and wave, "And Sasquatch."

"What are you saying?"

"Promise you'll still come for Thanksgiving? Promise me you'll let this go and not feel…awkward?"

"Go on."

"Is there…anything between us?"

"No…nothing," he says immediately…earnest and…mad. "Bella…what could be between us?"

I take off walking. "Nothing," I call.

He catches up again, grabs my arm. "Wait a minute. What's between us?"

"What you said. Nothing."

"Bella," he takes his hand away, "you're hurt. Tell me. What is this?"

"You're so…."

"What have I done? Tell me!"

"You've done nothing. Nothing. Forget I…."

"I'm not just forgetting any of this. Talk to me dammit!"

"I wondered if you felt an attraction…for me," I yell.

He stares, and no, it's nothing like…faith. This man's faith has been pulverized…by Angela. So he's looking at me, the drilling look, all the way…down…down. Down.

"What?" him

I walk again, say forget it again. He comes after again. Stops me again.

"You've got to be kidding me." him

How could I have been so wrong? I've imagined the whole thing. I've always imagined it. He's obviously appalled.

"You come here…from fucking Chicago," he says this like he hates Chicago, "and ask me this…now?"

It's rhetorical, I think.

"You're home to regroup. You'll regroup and you'll be out of here like someone shot a rocket up your ass," he says. There's nothing between us? Bullshit!

Edward Cullen hates my guts.

"Okay, okay. Forget it." me

"Charlie…I'm not going to do it to him for some…he doesn't see you that way," he says this through his teeth. "He doesn't have any idea how you torture…. I'm not falling for it. I never have. I've already been enough a fool."

"Forget it," I say. "And I'm not your wife."

"Ex-wife," he says, this weird intensity. If he wants to kill me this would be the time…no one…nothing.

He's ripped his hood down and he's pulling on his hair. "Incredible. Attraction? Fuck…me…."

"Calm down. I'm going in. Don't…touch me again." I jog toward my house, but it's a repeat. He comes after me again, doesn't touch me this time.

"Bella," he's a tiny bit calmer. "Wait. Wait. Fuck."

I'm walking, faster than ever now. "Drop it. Just drop it."

"You asked if it's serious. It is. She's…she wants to get married."

I stop again. "She…wants to get married," I repeat like I'm translating. "What about you? You?"

"I'm…thinking about it."

I make a silent 'o,' then take off walking again.

"That's normal behavior, Bella. I'm being normal."

"Great. Be normal," I say over my shoulder as I run to my front door.

"I can count on her. She'll stay," he yells.

I stop.


	23. Chapter 23

Look How You Turned Out 23

I turn slowly. "Good then. That's…great," I say. That's great she'll stay. Like a Golden Retriever.

I quickly let myself in the house. I want to let out a breath but my chest is too tight.

"Bella?" Dad says from the living room.

Juney's little Edward-like-child-like face appears around the arched doorway that leads from the hall to the living room. "It's her," he says, a piece of red licorice hanging out of his mouth. He's gone.

It's her. Am I crazy? I hear so much in those little words. He's happy. Juney is happy to see me. He's proud…to see me. Like I'm partly…his.

I hurry past the living room doorway and up to my room. Holy shit.

I had words with Edward. Words that…grown-ups speak who…feel intensely…about the words they say.

I want to comb over each and everything, but I can't come down to the moment, I'm suspended on this surfboard, above the room, the house even, I'm riding a wave of…ohmygod. But it's a big mother fucker, this wave. It's serious.

Jacob Black was right. I knew that. Didn't I? When I lied, when I told him I couldn't marry him because I loved someone back home, when I reached back there…home…for a lie…for a reason…why I couldn't love this perfectly wonderful man, when I reached back for the lie and wouldn't look at or acknowledge what, who I'd grabbed onto. Wouldn't look directly at those green, penetrating eyes.

Edward.


	24. Chapter 24

Look How You Turned Out 24

I awaken to the hollow sound the awl makes as it's smashed along the grain of the wood, ripping it into pieces that will fit in the fireplace and the woodstove that connects from outside and helps heat the house.

I know it's him. I look at the clock on the nightstand and holy crud it's five a.m..

Yeah, he does this, cuts the wood. I've watched him…countless times, covertly, overtly, I've watched him wear a flannel shirt in weather that freezes the sweat in his hair, watched him raise the sledgehammer over his head and beat that awl, beat it down the upended sections of trunks and limbs he carts home in his truck. I have watched him stretch long like a big cat and kabaam that splitting sound of broken wood, the tumble of the sections off the big stump he cuts on. I've watched him so many times.

Like now. It's still dark but he's got a lantern. Probably hasn't slept. Doesn't sleep much I've heard him say. He likes this, the chopping. Charlie always let him work it out here. Whatever. This morning I think he's working me out of his system. I strongly suspect he means to.

I've crossed the hall into my room. It overlooks the backyard. I've been sleeping in the front…it's closer to his house…to him. But now I'm here, and so is Juney, sound asleep in my bed. I'm looking down on Edward and somehow…I think I own some of him…like Juney does with me…somehow we're all entwined.

I have my hand on the glass, the blanket around my shoulders. I never touch the glass cause it'll leave prints and I hate washing windows. But my hand is there now, over his image. I want to touch him.

Smash and split. He resituates the log and smash and split again. Shoulders heaving like a bull-man's might he brings down that hammer like he's pulverizing world hunger.

I can will him to look, and I think that and he does look, well he's wiping his mouth on his sleeve, sledgehammer posed on the stump like a cane, both hands resting on it, and when he wipes his mouth he looks up, right at my window and there I am like a ghost, like a waif, and I wonder how many times he's looked here before and there was nothing.

But he's still, and I know it's hard to see, but Juney has the nightlight on, so it's enough to let him know…I'm watching.

He grabs that tool and sets another chunk of wood on the stump and he places the awl and he drives it and drives it through with two well placed swings, like he's ringing the bell at a carnival show.

Here I go again, running around like a fool trying to find my warmest clothes and get dressed enough to run out there and try to stack, to be by him again before it's too late…for something.

When I have enough on over my skin, my boots are the last, still in the mudroom where I left them thinking I'd never wear those things for a hundred years, and here I am. I get them on and I'm pulling on my gloves when I get outside. He sees me, hard not to with my big red cap, but he doesn't stop, he whacks and whacks and whacks.

I go to where that wood litters the ground all around him. I bend and start to fill my arms and I take it to the stack already running along the back and set that green wood on the orderly pile.

He's stopped now and he's breathing good. I look at him, I don't smile either, but I gather some more and take it to the pile and he's just all out watching now.

So we work like that, like a hundred times before, and it feels familiar but not as right as it usually does. The sun is just sending the first smudge of gray into the inky darkness.

A deer bolts out of the nearby trees and tracks its way across a thin crust of snow that fell during the night. It disappears by the side of the house. I look at Edward. "Wish I had my rifle," he says, then he swings that hammer overhead and brings it down again.

He wants to be ornery, but I can tell by his voice he's let go of most of it, that terrible anger he showed last night.

"You better get inside and warm up. Juney can do this later."

I nod. I just wanted to see…how it is between us. If he's going to talk to me still, I can live with it, I guess.

I start for the house and he calls me. I turn. "I'm sorry for saying every dick…stupid ass thing…last night."

I nod again. "I'll make some breakfast," I tell him, and I go in.

I'm in the mudroom toeing off my boots when he bursts in the door. I say bursts, but he really just comes in. It's just…he fills a place. That's how it seems.

So my boots are off and my socks are wet, and I unzip my jacket and he's taking off his boots, and it's just…everything feels like something else. I have on yoga pants and a mis-buttoned flannel shirt, and my hair is in a fuzzy braid and I move past him to go in the kitchen and he takes hold of my arm and I look at him and those eyes, God help me, and he slowly pulls me closer to him, and his arms are around me, the set of his mouth, oh, and he hugs me like that and my arms are around him too. Finally. I'm shocked, but I'm so happy to bury my face against his cold shirt and feel his heat coming from the white t-shirt beneath. A big lump comes up my throat, and I feel him kiss the top of my head and hear him whisper my name, "Bella," and no one has said it like that, like he names my soul.

"What's this?" Charlie asks, standing in the doorway to the kitchen in his pj's and robe. "Edward?"

"Just…," Edward clears his throat, but we are still holding one another. He slowly pulls his arms away, "Bella told me…something."

Charlie is nodding, looking from him to me. "Isabella…I told you I'm in tip top shape."

"I know," I say softly, my body still tingling…my blood as crisp running through me as my steps in the snow.

"You talking about…you know…Chicago and that boss of yours?"

"Dad," I say…I rebuke him. "That was…" I nod my head, my eyes wide like he should get a clue.

"Well now Edward is family. You should get his take on it."

"I don't think so," I say quickly. I go straight in the kitchen and search through the bowls. My own dad.

But he's still talking to Edward as that one comes in the kitchen too.

"I say it's sexual harassment plain and simple, I don't care if he covered it with marriage you don't fire a woman from her job for turning down a proposal. Not in 2013 you don't. What do you think, Edward?"

"What happened?" Edward says, cop face, hands gripping the pressed back on the oak kitchen chair.

"Nothing," I say through my teeth.

"I knew it. I told you something happened," Edward presses, mad again.

"Nothing did."

"Were you…did someone touch…."

"Stop copping me! Nothing happened. Dad you big mouth. I said that to you…no one else."

"Said what?" Edward says coming around the table to stand right in front of me. "Bella…," he takes a deep breath, "sweetheart…you need to tell me."

Sweetheart? "Calm down. I told you I was fired."

"For turning him down. Her boss!" Charlie says like an old wash-woman at the fence.

"Dad!" I rebuke.

"If he's in any kind of supervisory position he has absolutely no business…what did he do? Exactly." Edward says.

"It wasn't like that. Jacob Black is a good…man." Me

"Called it a conflict of interest. Said that's what it was," Dad says.

"You bet it was a conflict of interest," Edward says.

"Oh my gosh you are both crazy," I say looking one to the other. "Are you enjoying this Dad?"

He's not exactly smiling, but there's an energy that's just not explainable at this hour of the morning, even for him.

"Bella, you have to tell me everything," Edward says.

"No I don't. There's nothing to tell. He proposed. And I said no. He said I should go home and think about it. He said I was officially fired until I made up my mind."

"Bastard," Edward says. "Is there a no-fraternization policy? Did you file anything with the grievance committee? You said no, right? Did you say no?" Edward says shooting an outraged look at Charlie.

"I said no," I repeat.

"Thank God," he says closing his eyes.

"Oh and he says it was a favor. He did her a favor," Dad continues.

"Did he say that?" Edward asks me, his eyes open and full of righteous indignation.

"Maybe," I say heatedly toward my father.

"He better hope I never meet him outside of a courtroom," Edward says, fist on the table, salt and pepper jumping.


	25. Chapter 25

Look How You Turned Out 25

Edward hovers. Dad is getting ready to go in to the station for a shift. "Somebody has to work," he jokes, standing in the kitchen buckling his belt, and adding his revolver to the mix.

"Now Bella I meant Edward," he corrects so I don't think he was digging at me.

"I know Dad," I say rolling my eyes. He means Edward, the one who is making a production of eating his pancakes. Juney isn't even up yet, and Dad bids us a farewell. I kiss his cheek like I'm Donna Reed or something, but I haven't done this enough lately…well I've been gone. And he shouldn't have let my business drop to Edward, but what am I going to do, shoot him?

I already tried to leave. We leave the people we love the most to go off and have adventures. What do we gain? Adventures. But what's better than being with the people we love? Don't we always try to go home in the end? I have. I can have my adventures right here. In Forks. I can make them, not look for them, make them. Right now my greatest adventure is mopping his last piece of bacon in his syrup. I really, really like the way his hair goes every which way and catches the bad kitchen light. I like the fact he hasn't shaved in a couple of days, and the shine on his lips he's working over with his tongue. I like his licker too. One thing, no matter how mad he makes me still he hasn't taken anything that happened to me in stride.

As soon as Dad is gone, "What do you want me to do?" the subject of my secret Edward Cullen admiration society asks as he wipes his shiny lips with a napkin.

I'm crushing pecans with the rolling pin and it's quite therapeutic…kind of like splitting a cord of wood in its own way. I have forbidden him and Dad to talk about Chicago. I have made it clear I will not be suing anybody and so they need to drop it.

But I know Edward is not going to drop it. I had to tell Dad three times, but he has more right than Edward to pry.

"You can peel apples," I say.

"Bella?"

I look at him.

"You were only gone five months."

"Six," I correct, "and you're still talking about it." In front of Charlie it was all moral outrage over the legalities but it won't be that now.

"It's pretty much a cliché, right? Young girl from a small town, big city mogul hires her to be his 'private secretary?'"

"You're still copping on me when you did the exact same thing. Five months."

"Six," he corrects me now. "I waited how long to date? You told me you admired it or something. Now I'm what…some slick bastard who uses his money and position to overwhelm and intimidate young girls who are out on their own? Jessica is thirty-eight for your information."

I have my hand over my mouth. He got caught up and spilled the beans. Hand on mouth turns to fist on hip. "A cougar?"

He tries not to smile, tries to be stern. "Bullshit. This is all bullshit. Black is what…thirty-five?"

"You Googled him."

"Google," he sneers. "You think we didn't run him through the system?"

"Andy and Barney. No wonder I couldn't get out of here fast enough."

He stands up and stares at me a minute. Then he takes his plate to the sink and leans his ass there, folds his arms. "Is it over?"

I am now making Pecan meal. Soon it will be flour.

"He's a prick," he says.

I go to the frig. I am so stirred, so emotional suddenly, or still. I get the apples out of the drawer and throw the whole bag at him. He catches them against his stomach with one arm and his knee comes up.

"Bella!" he says, approaching me holding the apples against him.

"Stay away from me." I mean it, but I'm smiling too, but it's evil…what I feel. He's teasing me about all of this? I don't think so.

"Hey," he says like he wants to be friends, "come on. I'm just a little pissed off," he says like that excuses him, "because our girl got railroaded by a rich asshole."

"No, no. You don't get to say I'm a cliché, a private secretary, and all the rest," I say.

"You're no cliché. He is. The prick. Not you. I didn't sleep last night…I keep thinking of what you said. Bella, are you just home licking your paws? Are you home for good?"

"First off no more names. You don't know him or how it was so…stop. Second, I got that job from damn hard work and a kick ass grade point average and sterling references from my professors so stuff your little damsel in distress and moustache twirling villain bit. And, what if I am home for good?"

He stares but he has the trace of a smile. "So how was it? With him."

"That's all that matters? How many times I let him hold my hand?"

"For starters. Did you fall for this guy?"

"What do you think?"

"After last night…I don't know what to think."

"Then don't," I say softly. "It's worked so far, right?"

He glares a little. "First off I have a girlfriend. She owns a hair salon. It's gossip central in those places. I don't want to do it this way to you especially or to her."

"Do what?"

"Cheat. They'll blame me but they'll crucify you."

They will. He's been chased, relentlessly chased and she came from behind and took the lead and caught him. But they're all invested. If they can't have him themselves, at least she's a member of their pack. I wasn't even in the running.

But…everything happens for a reason. Having survived the girls in Chicago when Black pursued me openly and eagerly…these girls from Forks don't even have stingers.

"What are you thinking of doing?" I say.

He gets closer, until his forehead touches mine. I am literally dizzy from his nearness, this conversation, his touch.

"What would Charlie say about…," he can't seem to finish.

"Us? You can say it. Us."

I hear him swallow, move my palm over his hammering heart. His pectoral muscle twitches.

"You asked me…if there was something between us. I thought you meant bad feelings. Then you asked if I am attracted. I tried to be so careful about it," he says.

"Why did you let me go," I say, and his hand moves from my arm to my face.

"I never let you go."

He takes my hand from his chest and kisses it then, and finally I feel his lips against some part of me. My eyes have closed and my heart knows. He is utterly, completely mine. We ease back into the hug we'd started to share earlier when Dad interrupted. My ear is pressed where my hand had been. I can't imagine a better feeling than being against him, being held by him. I am no longer in this kitchen, I'm wrapped in him. He's what I'm in. The rush of love I feel is so overpowering I cling to him to stay on my feet. I never felt anything like this with Jacob. Affection, yes. But I couldn't consummate with him, couldn't take him in. My muscles resisted him. I saw the doctor, thought maybe it was his size though I wasn't sure what a proper size was as I had no one to compare Jacob too. But it was not his size, it was me. I couldn't do it with him. My body simply would not relax and receive him.

And still he put up with me, pursued me, wanted me, defective me.

Defective me…in love with someone else.

Always.


	26. Chapter 26

Look How You Turned Out 26

We are not declaring ourselves. That is what we decide. He has a girlfriend and he must first speak with Charlie. He won't disrespect Charlie. He says my dad has higher hopes for me than marrying some older guy with a kid.

I say first off it's not a kid, it's Juney, Dad's grandson for all intents and purposes. Second of all Edward is not some older guy, but Dad's son, for all intents and purposes. And lastly, he is not speaking to Charlie, but we are.

He might have found Jessica pushy, but I wrote the book on getting your way. Only child here.

He considers what I've said and agrees. But he's been the recipient/victim of so much of Charlie's gushing over me for so long, he's programmed to think I deserve, 'more.' More of what I don't know. He and Juney exceed what I'd hoped God had for me in the great universal scheme. I guess I'll spend a lifetime letting Edward know. Am I talking marriage? I'm not. But I don't know where else these kinds of feelings can go. Add Edward's love…eventually, and there you go, hundred mile an hour pitch straight to the glove.

One thing at a time. We know we have a meal to produce. Juney gets up all fuzzy and sleepy and him and Edward wrestle a little cause yeah, I get it, the pent up energy. Then Edward makes his pancakes. He's already peeled the apples and I've added the goodies and I'm putting them into a couple of pie shells as we speak. It's like I feel so creative, like the big cog in my wheel is gone and it's spinning madly and I'm giddy. So giddy it's hard to concentrate, but I'm starting to and pretty soon the pies are going in the oven.

I teach Edward and Juney to make noodles. It's so much fun with the tension gone, and we haven't kissed and we both seem to know we can't. If we kiss we'll make a baby. I believed that in grade school, and I believe it now. If I kiss him, I'll boink him and his sperm will swim like an Olympian to my egg and the two shall be one and…baby! There will be no stopping us. Not even Juney could as we'll just lift the ban on Call of Duty, fulfill his dreams and turn him lose. We could bring the house down then and that kid wouldn't even blink as long as that controller was in his hand.

So the kiss must not be unleashed when seventeen people are coming to dinner tomorrow. And Edward has his process—break up with J (I'm no longer saying her name) and talk to Dad.


	27. Chapter 27

Look How You Turned Out 27

Edward takes the call. Dad is sitting in his cruiser on the square when he's t-boned by an elderly man who's possibly had a stroke. The elderly man is in Forks to visit his daughter. Other than the perils of a stroke, he comes through without a scratch. As for Charlie, Edward says his hip appears to be broken, and possibly some ribs. "Get ready. Find your shoes," he says firmly.

Edward had just finished taking the turkeys out of the brine and putting them in the refrigerator in the mudroom when the call came in. Now he is moving with authority as he pulls on his flannel shirt over his white T-shirt. He'd taken the flannel off hours ago because we'd been knocking out the food and it got too warm in here.

"Will he be okay?" I call out as I go in search of my shoes.

"Yes," Edward says firmly.

I've been waiting for this all my life. Waiting for it and not waiting for it. Now it's here. "His hip and what else? His ribs? How many? Is he conscious?" I'm looking for my shoes. Edward yells for Juney to 'turn that thing off,' and grab his coat. He's asking what and Edward is saying Charlie is hurt and I'm thinking, oh God.

So we get ourselves together, and Edward is calm and humorless, telling me what to do, and I'm doing it. I'm in the truck now, Juney in the middle and he's telling us to put our seatbelts on. Once we do Edward barrels us toward the hospital.

We park in front of emergency and I'm out with Juney as Edward rounds the front. He waits for me, takes my arm and in we go. We're taken back, no problem on that. Dad is conscious and saying how ridiculous it all is and I'm not to worry. He is in agony. X-rays show a mangled hip and two busted ribs which are not, thank God, poking his lung. They are taking him in to surgery as soon as the surgeon gets there.

"It'll be okay," Dad says patting my hand. Juney is there too, and he's patting both of us.

Juney leans over Charlie and grips him in a hug. Edward makes to pull Juney off, but Charlie says, "It's okay. I'll be okay champ."

Juney pulls back and whispers, "Hugging in the kitchen."

Charlie shoots a look at me as he's patting Juney. "Ditto Champ. That's my boy."

"Your vacation is over," he tells Edward.

Edward doesn't make the proverbial joke about Dad going to great links to get some time off and get Edward back on. He tells Charlie not to worry about a thing but to get better.

"Son of a bitch," Charlie blurts out. "Better save me some turkey."

We are shuttled into the waiting room then and Edward brings us each a Coke. He'd turned the oven off before we left home, he said, so I shouldn't worry, like I give a flip about the oven.

"Better start calling people and telling them there's a change of plans," he says sitting next to me.

"I can't do that. People are counting on that dinner. It's too late for them to thaw a turkey."

"Suit yourself, but how are you going to be here and at home doing the Martha Stewart?"

"I'll call Sue," I say. I walk to the other end of the room, and that's what I do. Sue has me go over it, what I know about Charlie, what he said, how he is, the surgery, how long the surgery, do I need her to come. Oh hell, she's coming if she can get someone to come in to work and cook the dinner shift.

I say, "No. I'll call you."

She says not to worry, she'll move the whole dinner to Billy's place. No problem at all. That will work out fine. People can come and eat then visit Charlie, she says, but I don't like that last part so much.

"It depends how he's doing," I say. And in a flash I know…over the mystery of a cell phone, through the tower from me to her, I know…comes to Charlie…she's got shares.

We finish the plans and hang up. I am one bewildered girl as I notice Edward is also on his phone. He has a lot to do now. I can hear it being laid on him…the pressure.

"Go on," I tell him.

He's shaking his head no.

"You go," I whisper. "Juney can stay with me. There's nothing you can do here. I'll call you soon as he's out."

He's looking at me, finishing talking to switchboard Brenda. There's sure to be some domestics with the holiday. That's the damn thing about it. Domestics are potentially the worst.

He hangs up. "This town can go to hell until Charlie gets out."

See, Dad would never do that. He would go. That's why the people elect Charlie every four years and no one even tries to run against him. "You have to go Edward," I say. "That's what he'd want and we both know it."

"Me too," Juney says. "He'd say that Dad."

"So this is how it is?" he says.

"Team work," I say, but I don't mean a word of it. I want to be this woman, this stoic, strong woman, but I want him out of here so I can run to the john and sob.

"Call me as soon as he's out okay?" Edward says and I see the conflict in his eyes. I don't want to send him out conflicted.

"It's what he'd want," I repeat.

Edward nods. "Be good," he says to Juney. For me, it's this approach, this grip on my hand, his face moving toward mine, quickly, and this kiss that hits the corner of my open mouth.

Juney's mouth is open too. I have to grin. Edward has squeezed my hand and moves off awkwardly, looking back at me before he pushes out the door. "Call me," he says before he lets the door close.

I have stood here like a very addled person who's on overload. Dad in surgery, Juney gawking, my first kiss from Edward, Thanksgiving dinner plans blown to hell, and Sue hooking up with Charlie. These things aren't all equal in gravity or importance, but they all rank. Wow.

I tell Juney I'll be right back and I walk quickly to the restroom. Through my fog I can still feel Edward's half-on kiss. I touch my lips and instead of crying I smile. I'm looking in the mirror at a real dumb-ass, but it's going to be okay, just like Edward said. "God," I pray, "help Dad. Help Edward. Thank you."

I wash my face then, just the half Edward didn't touch with his lips. I don't want to lose his DNA any sooner than I have to.

Back in the waiting room I sit next to Juney and he moves closer and I put my arm around him and he very magnanimously works his long skinny arm around me and we sit uncomfortably entwined for a few seconds. "It'll be alright," he says, just like his dad but I think he's been crying some.

"Oh sure. They do this stuff all the time," I say.

"Yeah," he says kindly.

I lay my cheek on his hair and for a few minutes we sit silent that way, and that's when I remember his whisper to my dad, "Hugging in the kitchen."

"Hey Bella, do you think boys my age should have their own cell phones?"

"Not really," I say. "Why?"

"Oh," he sighs hugely, "just wondering."

"Nice try," I say.

"Are you and Dad…like in love?"

I laugh a little. "We're…good friends. You know."

"Friends who love each other?"

"We're like family. So that's love, right?"

"You should tell Grampa Charlie. He'll be so happy."

"Will he? Like…hugging in the kitchen?"

He is very still for a few silent beats. Then, "I'm not supposed to tell but since operation loveboat is complete and Charlie's hurt…."

"Operation loveboat?" I say flatly.

"It's our secret."

"Wait a minute. Did your dad say I was the…you know…the prettiest girl in Washington?"

He looks like it's judgment day. He's playing with his fingers like they're a bunch of fat worms. "Almost."

"What did he really say?" I might have moved my consoling arm in to a headlock.

"Well, he said there goes the most infuriating girl in the state of Washington. Like that." He'd mimicked Edward, catching his father's self-righteous tone perfectly. Now I know he's telling the truth and I ease my hold and pull away from the little shit.

"Don't be mad. It worked, didn't it? Grampa Charlie said he'd activate his old cellphone for me if I said that thing about you being pretty and watched for hugging and kissing and reported back to him. Like we're working a case, he said."

"You little motherless sociopath." I might pull his hair a little.

"Grampa Charlie said my dad wouldn't know love if it fell on him in an explosion." He seemed to like this idea a lot and he was laughing now, no conscience at all about singing like a canary.

"And Jessica?"

"Well…that's how I earned the ten dollars. It wasn't like I did anything. Grampa Charlie just noticed what I was already doing. For services rendered, he said."

"Diabolical," I say in a kind of awe. "But Juney…let me tell you something. From here on out I will be around. And it will be my mission to make sure you're a good boy. Got it?"

He stares at me, his father's eyes, his father's concentration. "Alright, Bella."

"Alright, Juney."


	28. Chapter 28

Look How You Turned Out 28

They pin Charlie's hip. It isn't an overly long surgery, long enough, but after four hours he is out of recovery and back in his room.

"Most brutal thing I ever went through," he tells me. He says he isn't in pain. He is still feeling the effects of the anesthesia. It will be wearing off soon.

"You still here buddy?" Charlie says to Juney.

"Yeah," Juney says allowing Charlie to pull his head in for a hug. "Does it hurt?"

"Nah. I'll be out of here in no time," Charlie says.

That's not what the surgeon told me out in the hall. With even the beginnings of Parkinson's thrown in the mix, Dad is looking at a good month of recuperation and rehab. It's a nasty break, and even though pinned it remains to be seen if he'll walk as ramrod straight as he always has.

He lets Juney go and starts on me. "You need to get this boy home. I know you've still got lots to do."

"Sue is helping me," I say.

Dad misses a couple of beats staring at me.

"Okay. She's a real trooper…Sue," he says. Then he gulps. I guess he's been asexual too. We're puritans.

"I know Sue," I say, then I change the subject. "So Dad, the anesthesia is going to wear off real soon and they'll give you the good stuff to control your pain. So don't worry about a thing. Edward is taking over at the station."

"Oh…he knows the ropes. Not a better man."

"I know," I say, and right in front of me he winks at Juney.

Sue does come then, and I borrow her car and drive Juney home to meet Esme. Much as he doesn't want to leave Charlie, he consents to going home with his grandmother. After Esme picks him up I rush around making sure everything is secure enough to be able to leave. I run up to my room and freshen up and gather some toiletries for the hospital as I'll be spending the night in Charlie's room.

By the time I make it back to the hospital Charlie is writhing in pain and Sue has a chair pulled up to his bed. "Oh God," I say upon seeing him, and worse hearing him moan in agony. "Have they given him something for pain?" I ask Sue as I approach his bed. But just as soon a nurse and a CNA enter to help move Charlie because he's carrying on about being in the wrong position. Sue is unseated, and the best thing we can do is get out of the way. Charlie yells out when they attempt to move him and pack that leg with more ice and pillows.

Sue seems as upset as me. Charlie is no baby. To hear him yell like that is unnerving.

"Bella, come here," he says as soon as we get a few minutes alone. "Look up there at that light."

I look up at the fluorescent. "Is that a fish swimming in there?"

I look at him sharply and he is sincere. "No Dad. No fish."

"I know what I see," he says.

A nurse comes in then. I tell her about the fish and she fiddles with the valve to lessen the pain meds. "Are you seeing fish, Sheriff?"

"I know what I see," Charlie insists.

"There's no fish Dad," I repeat.

Sue comes back from the restroom then. "He loves to fish don't he," she says.

I explain he's seeing fish.

"Oh," she says. "He be trippin'. He be trippin'," she says all jivey.

It's a little cute the first couple times she says it, but she keeps saying it and Charlie keeps saying he sees fish and he knows what he sees with his own eyes, dammit. I suddenly feel very tired and like I need to cry.

It gets worse for a while. Dad is no crybaby, but he's in so much pain he can barely stand to be moved. When they ask him to number his pain from one to ten, ten being the worst, he yells out, "Eleven dammit."

I end up spending the night. There's no way I can leave him alone as miserable as he is. Sue also wants to stay but she has to fill in for me with the Thanksgiving meal so she has no choice but to leave. His caregivers are keeping a close eye on him and they are in here round the clock. It's around two in the morning and I am lying on the most miserable couch ever designed by humans for humans and staring at Charlie. It seems he's fallen asleep, finally. I am exhausted, but so revved I can't close my eyes. All of a sudden Charlie lifts his head and he's wide awake again.

"Bella! Bella!" he yells looking straight at me.

I sit right up. "I'm right here, Dad."

"Are we in Chicago?"

"No Dad. We're at Forks General. We're safe. We're fine."

He is glaring at me like I'm telling a lie.

"We're fine Dad. You can lie down."

"That Jacob Black making trouble?"

"No Dad. Jacob Black is not a trouble maker."

"What did he do to Edward?"

"Nothing, Dad. Jacob doesn't know Edward. We're in Forks. We're fine."

Charlie lies down, but every couple of minutes he looks over at me like he's worried.

"What's the matter Charlie?"

"Renee?"

"It's me Dad. Bella."

"Oh. I thought you were Renee," he says more subdued.

"It's Bella. You and I are in Forks General. They operated on your hip and I'm staying with you."

It goes that way. Basically, Dad is high as a kite. They're working to regulate the pain meds, but it's a while before they get it right. During their struggle I learn that Dad thinks I should marry Edward. I thank him and tell him Edward hasn't asked. We're just friends, I say. When Dad persists, I concede and say I'll get right on it.

I learn how sorry he is over Renee leaving me. I didn't do a thing to deserve it, according to him. I tell him it's alright I never blamed myself.

Then I also hear how he's dating Sue and he meant to tell me before now but I was busy in Chicago. He ends his diatribe by saying Edward has no business dating a girl like Jessica. I have no idea what that means.

He's also decided I shouldn't be in Chicago. He doesn't want me sorry I stayed in Forks, like Renee was. He's worried I'm meant for more, meant to travel and see the world. But he's also seen a sadness in me since I left. Well he heard it when I called.

"I wasn't sad," I say. Was I?

The last thing he says is, "That boy was good for nothing when you left…moping around."

"Juney?"

"Edward dammit."

But I don't trust a thing Dad says, especially when he be trippin'.

Somewhere after that I must doze off. I awaken with a start to see a man standing over me. My startle reflex is on hyper-drive and it scares me half to death. I sit up even though some part of my brain recognizes Edward. He's in uniform and he'd been touching my cheek I think and he's pulling his hand back and says he's sorry he didn't mean to scare me.

He sits next to me. It's as overwhelming as Charlie's been, having Edward so suddenly near.

Edward asks how Charlie is doing and I update him. We're speaking in whispers cause Dad is snoring loudly. Edward shares a couple of things that happened during his shift. "You must be beat," he says.

"You too," I say, establishing how in sympathy we are with one another. Juney is settled with Esme so Edward is free to work, and I am free to be with Dad.

Edward sits hunched forward, elbows on knees. He is looking at me all the time and naturally I know I look a mess so I move the rubberband off my wrist and quickly tie up my hair. It's me being interesting again.

"Guess I'll go home and get some sleep," he says. We stare at Charlie, open mouth, sounding like a bear.

"You could come with me," he says. Then he breaks right through my indecision. "Some real sleep. It's a marathon," he says quick nod toward Dad.

I look at him and a nurse is already pushing her station into the room. The sun will be up soon and they'll be all over Charlie. If I look at this through the eyes of Jesus I imagine Edward's trying to take care of me. It's nice.

"When's the last time you ate? C'mon," nod of his head toward the door. "They got him for now."

"I guess…maybe for a couple hours," I mumble.

The nurse wakes Dad and he seems more oriented, but miserable. There are three of them moving him, questioning him, fussing over him when we leave. I am walking down the hall, Edward beside me. I follow him out to the truck. He's left the cruiser at the station. Charlie's has been towed to the yard. I haven't seen it yet, don't think I'm ready to.

He opens my door and I get in. Pretty soon we're pulling out of here, and my head is back, my eyes closed. He pulls on my arm and I let it flop open and he takes my hand. He puts a Twinkie in it. It's still in the wrapper.

I laugh, but I set it on the dashboard. We both love those things and it's been a running joke for years. He tries to eat all of them at the house, and I hide them in ridiculous places around the kitchen. Sometimes he pulls a box out of his jacket before he leaves. Once I found a box of them in the washing machine.

I resume my napping position. It's only three miles to my house, but I think it's like this—we're clinging to one another. I keep my eyes closed.

When we get home Edward pulls into Charlie's and I practically fall out and we go in the front door. It's left unlocked so Sue could get in there and pull the food. I don't look right or left, but go straight up the stairs. "Come on," I say to Edward, not even turning to look.

"I'm going home, Bella," he says.

I wave without turning around.

Upstairs I kick off my shoes and fall face first on Charlie's old bed. But there's no sleep. I have so much to process, Charlie's pain and Charlie's vulnerability. My Dad, my strong dad.

Should I even be here? Shouldn't I be there? I don't know. It's a marathon, Edward said, but how can I think about myself at all?

I hear the first sound of Edward's return and realize I've been straining to hear it. I quickly get under the covers, wish I'd kicked off my jeans at least, but I can't. I can't.

I turn away from the door, roll onto my side. I can't watch his approach. I can't do it.

Pretty soon he is walking across the floor. It's Edward, I try to imagine. Pretty soon the bed dips and rustles and I am wrapped in his arms and I smell the clean and feel the soft, because he's taken off the uniform, the uniform that makes my mouth water, as in drool. I feel that safety again, that new environment he pulls me in to, him, solid and definite and directive about where he wants to be and where he wants me to be. No one but Dad has ever made me feel safe.

Jacob…no. Any safety I felt with him soon became a box with a heavy lid. I couldn't breathe.

It wasn't his fault, and I don't want to think about him now.

Edward is home. I know he can handle what comes. He can handle me. He doesn't require I become less under the guise of becoming more. He seems to appreciate what I already am, as if it's enough, more than.

"My turtle shell," I mumble, and I'm smiling.

"What?" he laughs and I hear the sleep already weighing his voice.

I can't repeat it. "Dad…."

"He'll be okay," he says softly. He squeezes me a little.

"Oh, Happy Turkey Day," I remember. My forearm is aligned with his, my fingers around his wrist.

"Thanks," he says.

He tells me to go to sleep, but even so tired there's a smile in his voice. Finally, he's here. Finally, for a moment…with me. Two stars in the universe have collided…and it's us.

I love you is what I think but cannot say. Well I do.

It's then we hear the car pull up. It's then we hear the knocking.

"It's just Sue," I slur, but he is up quickly and at the window. He's tall and strong and freaking straining his neck.

"No it's not," he says. And then he curses. He goes quickly to the stairs and I hear the rapid steps he takes. I am up too and I'm following. It must be some guy in a black ski mask. Edward knows we have guns, their location and the metal box of ammo. It's like he's that stealth-lightly and rapidly descending the stairs.

Masculine voices at the door, but both familiar. Edward blocks the doorway by holding onto the door's frame. "Turn around and head back to where you came from," he's saying.

"Bella," the visitor calls out, and Edward pulls the door tighter, filling the gap with his body.

"Edward," I say. "I'll see him. It's okay."

Edward seems to think about it, "Conflict of interests," he says to Jacob. "I don't like the way you treated Bella. The only reason you're not slapped with a lawsuit for harassment already is because Bella is too kind. But I'm not. And I think she should go for it. You took advantage of the situation. You should pay for it."

"Are you Charlie?" he says. He knows Edward is too young to be my father. And he's seen Charlie's picture. But Jacob's a winner and that means…he uses everything. "Bella I came all this way to see you," he calls out.

"It's alright, Edward. I'll see him."

"You're lucky she's a better person than you, asshole," Edward says as he slowly stands back, "but you're on her turf now, and she's not alone so you can't bully here. Or you could. Try."

Jacob Black pushes through but only because Edward allows him to. I'm freaked out over what Edward has said, the intensity in his voice, and I am like the owner of the pitbull telling the mailman he won't bite when I have no idea if he will or not. No idea.

I don't need protected from Jacob. I never have. But Edward's unphased by Jacob's usual effect. He meant it when he pounded the table and declared he'd better not meet Jacob outside of a courtroom.

Jacob looks handsome, expensive, thick and fit like usual, dark against the white contrast of his shirt open at his throat, the Quileute blood he's so proud of. He wears a black suit that matches his inky hair. There's the bright white teeth Edward made fun of, but he's not sure, he's eying Edward.

"I can't believe this," I say, not unfriendly, not friendly, really amazed. He's come all the way to my house?

"Hello Isabella," he says, he's looking at me, seeing, I'm sure, the damage from exhaustion, suspicious of Edward, of us here together, of the state of our casual clothes, of our girl-boy-ness, a matched set, the fact we're alone. He sees it, and he'd have to be brain-dead not to feel it.

Edward is looking at me, restrained, subdued, but on high-alert, watching Jacob, watching what I'll do.

I'm about three steps from the bottom stair and I've stopped there in my sweat shirt and jeans, my socks, my shock. "Your family…Thanksgiving." Well those words are stupid. Jacob does what he wants. The Black family owns the world and all the people in it. Or at least they own Chicago. For a few months they damned near owned me. They definitely have a private plane.

"I had to see you." He looks from me to Edward. "I know it's rude to just drop in. If we could talk…just for a moment?"

Edward closes the door and folds his arms like he's not going anywhere.

"Um…right here is fine," I say.

Jacob sees how it is, this man I was so intimate with. This man who's sweat dropped on to me as he tried to be patient with my spastic vagina. This man who dressed calmly as he let me go. And I ran.

I am facing them…Chicago and Forks. What almost was and what almost is. My regret and my redemption.

"Did I…?" Jacob points from me to Edward and back to me. "Are you…?" he does it again.

"This is Edward," I say.

"Not Charlie?" Jacob asks, but he already knows. He's rubbing it in.

"I can't believe you came here." I'm repeating.

Jacob smiles. "A grand gesture. Is he your brother or your lawyer?" he says, pointing at Edward this time as if Edward can't answer for himself.

"What do you want, Jacob?"

He spreads his hands, soft, well-manicured, "You left, you don't write…." He shrugs.

"You fired me. The favor, remember?"

"A favor to you. Was it?" he says.

I try to refrain from biting my lip. "Yes."

He points at Edward again. "This is the one?"

Edward looks sharply at me.

Oh God. Yes, Edward is Neo in the kitchen with the Oracle. He is the one. But I shall deny it and Jacob will see the lie.

"Then you know I'm the one who sent her back here," he says to Edward. "No bullying." He looks at me, a question, like what did I tell Edward to rile him so?

Edward is content not to answer Jacob right away. Naturally that puts Jacob on-edge enough he takes to playing the smalltalk harmonica, "Not that she wouldn't have come back on her own…always a smart girl. We are still using some of her ideas. Talk about able to see the big picture…."

"Chatty little bitch," Edward says.

"Did I interrupt…," Jacob does the sweeping point again from me to Edward but I know when Jacob's pissed and he is.

I see this isn't as friendly as he is pretending.

"I'll walk you to your car," I say coming the rest of the way down and having to hurry to the mudroom for shoes. Jacob protests, saying it is too cold for that.

When I get back, they are having words.

"I drove six hundred miles out of my way…," Jacob says.

"You don't have a phone?" Edward.

"She doesn't take my calls. Doesn't answer my texts. Ignores my emails," he says this looking at me.

"That's what made you think she wanted to see you?" Edward.

"She forced me to show up. Do you know this woman at all? The queen of passive aggression," Jacob says. He loves to taunt. He implies he knows me better. In one way, he does.

"Bella," Edward says, "do you want this asshole out?"

"Edward please…it's alright," I say tiredly.

"Asshole? Nice," he says to us both.

"Your family…your mother…," I say.

"I'm only passing through," Jacob says. "A cup of coffee at least?"

I lead him back to the kitchen. I know it's foolhardy to take him deeper in. But he's come all this way and short of allowing him and Edward to get into it when he tries to remove him, I figure it's better to end this now. We go in the kitchen. Edward comes too. I go to the machine that makes one cup at a time and fill the reservoir and fire it up. Edward has his hand on my back. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

I nod as he drags his hand away. He's in the mudroom fumbling around for a coat. I'm leaning against the counter, arms folded, waiting for the coffee. Jacob is seated at the table looking around the room, at the beams overhead and the modest but functional space. "Very quaint," he says, a grin.

I hear Edward go out.

"Why are you doing this?" I say. "We had it out in Chicago, remember? I'm fired."

He stands and comes closer. He doesn't round the table, but he will. "I miss you."

I'm shaking my head. "Don't."

"I'm here to see if you've come to your senses," he takes another step around.

"Yes. Thank you." I hear the coffee maker heat the water and I turn to get a cup off the hook and he's behind me. I jump and put space between us. "Cut it out."

He smiles. A thousand watts. "You don't miss me? We had some great times."

"Yeah it was peachy. I'm moving on."

"That's not wise. Almost six figures and benefits? You're out of your mind."

"You told me not to come back unless I chose you. So it's you, six figures and benefits. I'm not coming back." I push him out of my way and make the coffee.

"You make it sound tawdry and you know it wasn't. I'm the only one telling you the truth here. You think I gave up on us? Guys like him, this is all they want, a cracker-box house, the football game and some fried chicken. Is that all you want for yourself? The only thing he'll be really good at is putting a kid in you once every couple of years. He won't be so pretty once he starts losing his hair and growing his belly. You're clinging to what you know. Didn't I show you some good times, show you there was more? I asked you to marry me, Bella."

"That's it. You can't believe I turned you down," I say waiting for the cup to finish being filled.

"For this?" he looks around. "Come on."

I take his cup to the table, round it, sit across from where he stands.

He pulls out the chair and drops. "You're scared of the future. You ran back here like a little rabbit. If it was Mom and my sister, I talked to them. They'll behave. Mothers are like that, no one is good enough for their sons. And I've had a lot of women want what I'm offering you."

I hear Edward's ax take a clean whack against the wood. "Offering. It sound like…a package."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I don't know. Probably nothing. I'm just the wrong girl."

"Are you…with him? Can you?"

"You did not go there."

"Of course I did. We were never free from him. He was in your head so deep."

"Is THAT why you're here? You want to know if I can have sex with him? So you can what…be exonerated…for what?" I push back my chair.

"Bella wait," he reaches across the table and grabs my wrist. "You're taken with this guy and he's like a body-guard. Is that what you want? He's got some hold on you. I can see what a domineering asshole he is. If you need help…if you'd come back…see that therapist…."

I put up my hand. "Look, I bear you no ill will. You can take that coffee with you. I have more cups."

"I'm sorry. You look so tired, baby. In Chicago…you glowed."

"Don't call me that. It's over. I'm sure your family is waiting for you. All those miles…you really can't afford to fall in somewhere."

He grins but I see the sad, like Charlie must have seen in me, heard in me, in Edward. "We'll start over. Pull yourself together and come back to Chicago, Bella."

"I'm not coming back," I say.

"You don't feel anything for me…for us?"

The back door has opened and I feel the cold air.

"First of the year," he says. "Don't say never. Your apartment is empty."

I don't walk him to the door. I hear him let himself out.

Edward walks in to the kitchen. "What's first of the year? Your apartment?"

There is a deep throbbing pain building over my eyebrows. "I need to lie down," I say. I get up, holding my head together.

He doesn't follow right away. I'm on the bed for a few seconds of shocked floating before he enters. He sets a bottle of water on the nightstand. "Here," he says nudging me. He has two Ibuprofens in his hand.

I sit up and take them. "Thanks."

I lay back down and he helps cover me.

"That prick upset you," he says.

I don't open my eyes. "I'm fine."

"I'll…be right across the street," he says.

Without looking I reach up and grab a handful of his shirt. I pull enough he gets the hint.

He takes my hand, loosens the hold. "Bella…try to sleep. I'm right over there."

Now I do open my eyes. "What's the matter?"

He's shaking his head. "Unfinished business, like we said before. You need to rest and I do too."

"We were resting. It was perfect."

He smiles a little. "I need a run. I've got laundry. I don't have a Lamborghini, but I do have a sink full of dirty dishes and some bills to pay."

"Don't do this," I say lifting up on my hand. "Don't you dare compare yourself to him or something."

He smirks. "Yeah. I'm not. He's a rich jerk. But…I'm not your rabbit hole…or your turtle shell, Bella. That's not who you are either. I want to be. I'm just wicked enough to fall in to that. There's no one I'd rather scrape up on the rebound."

My eyebrows lift up to my hairline. "Stop. Don't say anymore you are…wrong."

"Yeah. I'm not sure. We both need to sleep. I'm…slowing the freight train down. I'm hitting the brake. For everyone's sake."


	29. Chapter 29

Look How You Turned Out 29

I think I'll just ignore everything and everyone. Is it possible to ignore Edward? I'm going to try. I'm going to clear my head and think of nothing but white fuzz. I'm so tired.

Just when I'm entering nirvana my eyes pop open. "What the eff does that mean…put the brakes on?" I whisper.

And I'm not your rabbit hole, I'm not your turtle shell? I said that in love asshole. I was feeling loved and safe because of you. Jack ass!

If my head didn't hurt so much I'd throw open the window and scream toward his house.

But I lay there, certain any hope of sleep is now ruined.

When I wake up it's three hours later, which makes it ten in the morning. I feel like total crap. My first thought might be Edward, but my second is Charlie. Then Juney. Jacob barely registers.

I know I've been away from Charlie for too long. I frantically check my phone, but no one has called. Well Jacob has texted, but I'm not reading those.

I strip and get in the shower but I'm moving slower than I need to. The hot water is wonderful, but it also depresses me. My labia are dead, like a long abandoned factory that emits no sound, no hope of production. My life is quickly in the toilet. It's being flushed.

Back in my room I braid my wet hair and get dressed. I go in Charlie's room and throw together a bag. Once I'm in the truck and pulling out of the driveway I note that Edward's truck is gone. Well I already noted that from the crow's nest, but now it's official.

My heart barely thumps. The holidays can be such a bitch. And I'd had such high hopes. Wasn't it just yesterday Edward and I were cooking, Juney was in the living room. Dad was at work. We were like a family.

This would be a great time to have a mother. I have heard other girls complain about their moms, but this would be a great time to have one. I know it's lame to feel this now after all this time of her being otherwise occupied, and maybe if I really had a mom she would be so obnoxious I wouldn't tell her a thing, but my fantasy mom would be about perfect right now.

If I had her, I would ask her, what the hell do I do now?

I know what Renee would do. She'd wrap herself in cellophane probably, stuff a fat dubee and be ready to rumble the minute she got Edward to herself.

Well I don't know for sure. My fantasy mom would hold me while I cried and tell me I was too good for all of them. Then she'd take me to Hawaii all expenses paid while I "healed."

There has to be someone in the middle. I know there is and I go there. Billy's. I know they want to monitor Charlie's salt, but a slice of pumpkin pie can do a lot for a man.

I go around to the kitchen door because she has the front locked for the holiday.

The kitchen is warm and smells great. I'm a little regretful cause those turkeys I smell are the ones we brined.

"How's it going?" I say.

She's standing at the stove, an industrial sized pan of onions and celery, chopped by Edward, are browning there. "My favorite smell in the kitchen," she says.

"Yeah," I agree. Then I just think, go for it. "So you and Dad?"

"Me and dad what?" she smiles while she stirs. She's dressed up, purple shirt. Looks nice. Her hair is pulled into a bun. She doesn't like loose haired cooks or kitchen workers or waitresses. I should know. "Tie it up," she used to say to me when I worked here. Well she only had to say it once. Smartest waitress she ever had. That's what she said about me.

"You and dad," I'm rolling my hand. I'm a little afraid of her answer. I mean…it's my dad.

"You find out about Benny and Coy?"

"What about them," I say while the room swims. Those are her two grown sons.

"They're Charlie's," she says with this gleam, this smile.

She has me for a minute, then she's laughing.

They're a couple of perverts. Well they were in high school. They're okay now but I had to put up with those two all the time I worked here. "Not funny," I say.

"You don't want a couple of brothers?" she cackles.

"Shit," I say.

"Yeah shit," she agrees moving to the giant stainless refrigerator. She takes out one of the pumpkin pies. "I had to make two babies with that son of a bitch from upriver."

Yeah, it's a sad story. Sue's an overcomer.

"Speaking of that," I say moving to the big work table where she's slicing pie for Charlie, "that guy Jacob Black showed up from Chicago."

She looks at me as she lifts the slice into a plastic wedge. "Oh. He want you to come back?"

"I'm not going back. It was…well Edward was there."

We stare at each other a few seconds. "Okay."

"First off…you've heard of operation Love Boat?"

"The television show?

"Okay, no, forget that. I mean…I came home pretty well knowing…I even left, for that matter, left for Chicago knowing I was in love with…Edward Cullen."

"Yeah," she urges me on. She's not running out screaming so I'm encouraged.

"You can't tell Dad."

She laughs a little. "I can't un-tell him either, but sure."

"What…what do you mean…un-tell."

"Can't take away what he's already figured out."

"Dad has figured what out…that I love Edward?"

"That Edward loves you."

I can't seem to grasp this, but I can. I do.

"Dad believes that Edward loves me?"

"Yes," she says like she's talking to a lunatic.

"Why? I mean…on what grounds?"

She laughs, she shrugs, she puts a lid on the pie. "Your dad notices things," she says.

"He was always careful," I repeat this as I've heard Edward say it several times.

"When you left…not so careful."

"How so?"

Sue shrugs. "He wasn't so good. Charlie could see it, that's all."

"Thing is…Edward was there, early this morning, when Jacob showed up."

"Oh fudge. Did he kick his ass or something?"

She used fudge and ass very closely there, but I make myself move on. "Why would he?"

"Well you love him and he's there at the house. Then the other one comes and your dad told me that you said that other guy fired you and Charlie was all wound up saying Edward slapped the table or something he was so mad."

"Oh. Okay. Yeah. Dad told you that?"

"Sure. And about conflict of interest. He didn't like that. Oh and doing you a favor to fire you."

Dad's mouth is even bigger than I thought, but he's been telling the town my life story for…ever.

"So Edward was just…." I nod, looking at the shelves of pots and pans and canned food. I don't know how to explain it. "He says we have to wait. He's got to talk to Dad and break up with…."

"Jessica," Sue fills in.

I look at her. Of course she knows.

"Yeah."

"She has claws that one."

"Fake probably," I say.

"They still hurt. Maybe worse."

"Gee. That's encouraging."

"Wear something pretty. He'll come around."

I stare at her. It can't be that easy. This isn't the fifties…or sixties. Or seventies, I can't tell on Sue with her dark skin.

"You young people worry about everything. It's not that complicated."

"It is for me," I say softly. I take in a big breath. "I have a condition. I…can't have sex like a normal person."

Her eyes get big. "You don't have a hole?"

Even technology has offered me nothing as innocent and simultaneously raunchy.

"I have one," I say. "It's like very touchy."

"Most are," she says mischievously, and I catch the howling groan I nearly spill.

"What if I can't do it? What if I finally get there with Edward and I can't do it?"

She smiles. "You can practice dearie. It makes perfection."


	30. Chapter 30

Look How You Turned Out 30

When I get to Dad's room I immediately notice how full the windowsill is becoming with cards and plants and bouquets. How have they found these creations on Thanksgiving? Then I remember the market is open until five and it sells the bouquets and several of them are the same dyed carnations with the same sad plastic turkeys roosting in the baby's breath and fern filler.

Dad sees me at once, even though the nurse is adjusting his leg. He yells out from the pain. "Not the hell like that," he says as she moves the leg a careful inch. "Go slow!"

I am standing there. I'm sorry for the nurse but it's really hard to watch Dad be in such pain.

"Here's your pie," I say setting it amongst an array of crap on his table.

"He's had a steady line of visitors," the nurse says.

"Why the hell do they want to stare at me in this bed," Charlie grouses.

"He doesn't want to see anyone," the nurse continues.

"That's okay," I say to Dad. "You don't have to see anyone."

"Why the hell do people bother people in the hospital?"

I have some possible answers, but who the hell cares anyway.

I sit on the miserable couch and stare at his pee bag. Dad looks at me. "Did you get any rest?"

"Did you?"

"Hell no. You can't rest in this place."

"Now Charlie," the nurse says, "you better settle down."

"I'll settle down when you quit coming in here and poking on me."

She finds this amusing. "He's so cute," she tells me.

I look at Dad. He's anything but cute. He's pissed off.

So we are left alone for a minute. "You going to watch the parade?" I say.

"Hell no. I don't care about that."

"Since when?"

"You want to watch it turn it on," he says.

I clear my throat. "Edward come by?"

"No."

"Maybe they wouldn't let him in."

"They know he can come in. And Juney. And…Sue."

"Do you want your pie?"

"I can't eat."

"Why not?"

"I'm too damn nauseated."

"Sue is going to bring you a plate…later."

"She can come. But I don't want food."

"Oh. Sorry." I tap my feet.

"You look like you want to be someplace else," he says.

"I don't."

"I do," he says. "Where's Edward?"

"At his mom's I guess."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"You look like something is the matter."

"So do you."

"I just had a foot-long bolt shoved down my bone."

I'd take a foot-long shove. Maybe not a foot-long, but six point five inches maybe…well I Googled that and yeah…six point five. According to Sue I should be able to get over the hump, no pun. It's encouraging. And Edward might love me. Also hopeful. But trusting Sue's info is like using Wikipedia to write a dissertation.

"Hey Dad…Jacob came by today. Jacob Black from Chicago."

He keeps staring at me. "Edward know?"

"Yes. He met Jacob."

"And?" Dad is so grumpy faced.

"Jacob offered me my job back." I am digging for vindication in the eyes of my father. I think that need comes more from me than him. By a mile.

"Did you tell him to take a hike?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"You have to have conviction, Bella. Or people will walk all over you."

"I have…I told him to leave." Didn't I? I meant to.

"What did Edward do?"

"He…," I remember Dad's penchant for handing out my confidences like they're condoms at a whore's convention. "He didn't like it."

"Was there an altercation?"

"Of course not," I say, though there were moments. "But Dad, well Edward and I…we've begun negotiations…you know?"

"Negotiations for what?"

I shrug. Am I really doing this? "Dad…Edward and I were…we were realizing we might…be more than friends. I mean…I'm not sure it's happening after Jacob showing up, but I think it's happening anyway."

"What's happening, Bella? Be specific."

He already knows but I'll play the game. I move to his bed, pinch the thin blanket between my fingers and roll it back and forth.

"Stop that," Charlie snaps. "You're pulling the cover over my leg. I don't mean to snap at you honey."

Focus. Focus. "Dad…I care about him…Edward."

"Oh shit, you have to be careful not to jar the bed."

"I didn't touch the bed."

"He's a good deal older than you."

"Ten years," I say.

"Twelve," he says.

"I don't care."

"Of course you don't, you're twenty years old."

"Twenty two."

"Round it off, Bella."

"Dad…I know you're not against this. I know. So why are you fighting me?"

"You have to be sure. He'll take it seriously, Bella. He's a grown-ass man, as Sue would say. He won't do this lightly."

"I'm not some…feather…flitting…."

"Alright," Dad grabs my wrist. "He has a girlfriend."

"She's a mistake," I say with certainty.

"That doesn't make her go away. He's mad at himself. He gave up. You do realize he was waiting, right?"

"He never gave any indication…."

Dad lets go of my wrist. "Trust me. I warned him off way back."

"You what?"

"He knew I was right. You were too young and he had Juney to consider."

"Dad…."

"He wanted to come clean before you went to Chicago and I told him I'd accidently shoot him and lay him up right here in this place if he so much as moved a big toe in your direction. And don't think it wasn't hard for him, but he won me over when I saw he could put his needs second to yours."

"Dad I…."

"I was wrong."

"You were?"

"I should have stayed out of it. Once you got through school…not before. Now get that damn nurse back in here."

111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Once I'm back home looking frantically through the bag I haven't unpacked, I finally find it, a dress crumpled like newspaper on moving day.

I dump the whole thing on my bed and there it is…my Chicago life. I pick up that dress and take it to the mirror and stand there like a putz as I hold it in front of myself. Not good for Washington. I settle on leggings, my brown leather boots to the knee, a tight black sweater. It looks like I'm not trying which is the only way I can have confidence.

It's a pretty full parking lot in back of Sue's. I have extra cans of cranberry sauce cause you never know. Inside the kitchen it looks more lived in than normal because Sue keeps it tidy, but today she's out front visiting. I leave my jacket there.

In the dining hall I am greeted warmly from all corners. Sue's sons are here, and they're both married, thank God, but Coy hugs me just a beat too long so I guess the sweater is working.

Dad's cronies are here and one of the single guys from the station. The others are probably working or visiting with family like Edward is.

Football on the flat-screen and the jukebox is playing and Sue is in high spirits. Two little kids are singing at the karaoke machine so we have duel music and a couple of toddlers are running around. One is holding a hot roll which he stops to gnaw on before squealing and taking off again.

For the first thirty minutes it's all about Charlie, one to another I repeat how the surgery went and how long he'll be laid up. I guess this is how it happens for him about me. You don't set out to spill someone's business all over town, but you do anyway cause people ask and you find yourself saying there's no blood in his urine and that's a good sign.

They love the turkeys, and I give Edward the credit, and yeah it feels great to say his name and I get this feeling, maybe a glimpse, that someday I'll do that all the time, talk about Edward…I want to.

And it isn't long after I eat a small plate of food that the door opens, the cold blast, and it's him, and Juney pops in under Edward's leather jacketed arm and goes right to Sue, then he's looking for me and I wave. Edward is looking over the room and I lift my paper cup and hide my face in it, but our eyes connect and a force field grows from his eyes to mine…well sort of. We're staring.

He's tall and cleaned up and I can see he's tired, but that makes him more beautiful somehow. He takes off his jacket like he plans to stay, and the old factory kicks like a horse, you know what I mean. My legs beneath the table open a little like they're fixing to welcome him home from the war. Do I have a hole? A black sucking one. Hope that wasn't too gross I was thinking outerspace, not sump pump.

I'm tapping my boots. He's coming my way.


	31. Chapter 31

Look How You Turned Out 31

Edward doesn't make it over to me, so when the dancing starts, and it's joke dancing at first as we have Miley on the little stage and Clint Black booming from the back. So in between that people are dancing. All the kids.

So everyone takes turns dancing with everyone. Edward is not involved. The old guys have him cornered talking about the state of affairs with Charlie laid up and does he have it under control and the future of the department and the last four guys who were sheriff and how each one could have improved his performance. I can't actually hear any of this, but then I don't have to.

Everytime I look at him he's looking at me. He's talking to them, but he's looking at me. He's leaning on the wall, one knee bent, his hand there holding a cold one. He's got on a dark blue shirt and black jeans. I love those jeans. That shirt. I love him.

Coy is talking to me. Yes, this is my second go with him. His wife is watching us closely as she jostles one of the babies on her hip. There's a couple of feet between us, besides our own, and his are really big and he better not step on a toe again and scuff my four hundred dollar boots.

Then I get Juney and it's more lively. Juney pumps our joined hands and takes enormous steps. He's telling me how great it was at Esme's. "Better than here?" I say cause yeah, I compete.

"No," he says, then, "hey will you dance with Mr. Lar for a minute?"

I turn and there are the waiting arms of Mr. Lar. He's eighty.

So it goes that way, and I'm doing the twist with a five year old girl when I feel the tap on my shoulder. Edward asks my little friend if he can cut in, and the friend nods shyly then runs off.

"Bella," he says, and we put our hands on one another, and we start off like I'm Esme and he's Coy.

"Hello," I say, suddenly remembering the sting from 'turtle shell.'

"You look…nice."

"So do you. Juney had a good time at Esme's."

"He has a good time wherever he goes," he says.

Edward flinches the fingers on my back a little. I think we've moved closer.

"How's Charlie?"

"Crabby."

"Normal then," he says."

Is he mad at Charlie? His god?

We do that thing like in the movies where we say each other's names, one over the other.

"You first," I say. I have the stone tablet and chisel in my hand just waiting for what he says next.

"Sorry I was…abrupt earlier."

I feel tears and I know we're closer now.

"I said that…I said that in kindness and you…." Emotion fills me and I can't get it out.

"I know," he whispered. "I…liked it." His eyes dart around and his hand applies pressure to my back, "Turtle shell."

His hold eases and we recreate the respectable space.

"I'm going to go back in the kitchen," I say.

"Oh no."

I look up at him. I swear you'd think I was talking about the weather. "I'm going in the kitchen, back in that cubbyhole where she keeps the milk cases. Don't make me wait in there like a total asshole."

"Bella we can't."

"You need a new 'can do' attitude." I step back then, ruffle Juney's hair because he's dancing with the five year old his dad had cut out. I laugh and talk my way back to the kitchen, then I ninja through it and quietly make my way to the back corner that sequeways into a storage area. I go in there and sit on one of the cases and try to slow my heart down before it falls on the floor.

As soon as I hear him I'm on my feet, and panting. I am panting like a two dollar whore in a red dress. He rounds that door, fills it pretty much and I go to him, I fling myself on him and somehow I'm standing on a milk case and that makes me a little taller than him and Dad is right, he's serious, the way he's looking at me. I am against him, and his arms are squeezing the air out of me but it's the best hurt I ever had. We go in slow. When his lips touch mine oh my God in heaven there will be no bliss like this until heaven. My mouth on his, his open and his tongue, my god.

He pulls back and tells me shhh, and he's laughing a little and saying god, and I don't know what he's talking about. I latch right back on, my arms around his neck, my hands remembering to dig through his hair, one leg off the crate and wrapping around him, and he pulls the other one up on the other side, and we're all in.

He has made his way through to the wall and I am against it, and his breath. "You have to be quiet," he whispers, and I am being quiet, and I seal my mouth onto his again.

My god, my ears are filled with the rush, my head thunks against the wall and he kisses down my neck and his hand squeezes my breast and I arch into it, and bingo my legs out of the way and his bulge against my spazz, and the hallelujah chorus comes out of nowhere I swear.

"You, you, you," he chants and breaths against my ear as his hand works its way between my legs and I lift in to it and he says shhhhh. And I am, I am, I am. I am grinding on his hand and I come apart and it freezes me and my body convulses then this wave upon wave of a rush and his mouth on my neck and he's pushing his 6.5 against me and I rip at his hair and he's gasping. "Bella…God…God."

Holy shit. We are still, mangled against the wall, my hand on his sweaty neck, the other claws first against his back, his shirt. He's deadweight, his face buried against my black sweater, we're halfway to the floor where my ass hit a crate and saved us.

He lifts his face, and he's looking at me, a grown ass man. There's love in his face. He loves me.

He kisses me. He smiles at me. "Oh shit," he says, then his grin is bigger.

"Can't wait until you take the brakes off," I whisper. We'll burn this place down.


	32. Chapter 32

Look How You Turned Out 32

Edward stands and pulls me onto my feet and kisses me one soft kiss. He makes sure the blue shirt covers his fly and I'm smiling at him while I right myself and his hand is on my waist, under my sweater and his fingers are kneading and I know I'm soft and he kisses me again.

"Bella," he says softly.

I touch his face, his jaw already growing scruffy as the afternoon has deepened into evening. He's precious to me.

"You should go out first," I whisper.

"I'll see you at home," he says, not sure how to end this beginning, I think.

I nod and give him a little push. He looks back at me a couple of times.

He doesn't go in the dining room, but out the back door. I am in the kitchen and it's easy to find things to do so I grab a couple of trash bags and enter the dining room. What woman thinks of trash while the fresh glow of orgasm from the man of her dreams still lingers over her like Shekinah glory?

Me.

In the dining room Juney is on the Karaoke singing Born to Be Wild and flinging his head around. I tie off two big bags of trash and drag these onto the front porch. Coy wants to help and I say I've got it.

Edward is coming around the side of the building from the back. I give him the bags to take to the dumpster and I feel he's glad for the job. He keeps looking at me and I expect him to throw those bags of trash and grab me and shove his tongue in my mouth, or carry me into the sunset, or his truck, with big manly steps. But of course he doesn't yet realize I'm insatiable for tactile stimulation from any of his body parts including and especially his eyes. And right now? They're undressing me or I'm ripping my clothes off and they can see the scenario in my brain.

"Guess we'll have to buy this place now," he says to hide what he can't hide from me, this giddy something.

"Hmmm," I say. I'm not exactly on my smart-ass-reply game at this moment. But I get it. We christened it before the sale and all.

"I ah," he says, "I'm going by to see Charlie as soon as I can pry Juney away."

"Leave him with me," I say. I know I blew Edward's order to hell, his plan. He'll need to make that right as he can, soon as he can.

I understand him. I always have. "Go," I say. "Take care of them both."

"Both?"

"Yeah. Dad…and her."

"She's not back until tomorrow," he says.

"Leave Juney with me. And after work tomorrow, after…her…we'll have dinner."

I'm letting him know…I'm honoring the plan.

I know he'll run tonight. I know he has a lot to think about.

And I want him to. I've been waiting a damn long time. For him.

111111111111111111111111111

Juney and I get home and I know Edward will come over and build up the fire outside in our furnace. Juney and I turn on the fireplace in the living room and we both kick our shoes off pretty soon. He hits the video game while I hit the shower. I'm so damp down there I think maybe I started my period, but no, it's from my mating session in the closet.

Am I in heat? It makes me laugh to think of myself as this tree frog woman pressed naked on the cold glass of my bedroom window, lights blazing when Edward comes out of the house to go on his run and I let out this big shrill horny trill. I think he'd come over, maybe alarmed but how could he resist such a thing.

I'm not afraid of what's started. I feel such a joyful madness and desire to be with him.

After my shower and soft clothes I check on Juney. He wants to play Life. I groan. "Checkers," I say.

So we do that. I get Fritos and he gets Cheetoh's and there we are in front of the fire and I'm letting him kick my ass, and we hear Edward out back. The motion lights have come on, then we hear the muffled sounds that mean he's feeding the stove and getting ready to run.

He will have talked to Charlie. While I'm thinking all this Juney jumps me three times, and I try to look properly shocked so he won't guess how preoccupied I am over his father.

I talk sweaty Karaoke boy into the shower after our games and he gets to pick the movie.

Edward is still in the yard. He's like milking this I think. So I spy a little, and he's in a t-shirt and work out pants and his breath shows in front of his face. I like his hair longer, then I think of her cutting it, and he needs a cut now but he'll have to go to Litchfield. He is sorting through the wood. I know he likes to put some hardwood in for the night. George Harrison had it right, something in the way he moves. He makes my blood come to a screeching halt and take off backwards.

I sneak to the back door, shove my bare feet in my boots and go out there. I give him a wave. It's so cold.

"You're going to freeze," he says that customary thing you say to crazy people who want to look cute while they catch pneumonia.

But he's coming and I hope to wear him like a coat. I don't know if I close the gap or he does or it's a joint effort. This is risky cause Juney is not known for long showers. But I am held off the ground and my rubber yard boots are threatening to fall off, and I am against him and kissing him and it's like kissing ice cream, but the inside of his mouth is so warm. He tells me shhhh, and says what am I doing to him, and he laughs, we laugh. "How was it with Dad?"

"Fine," he says. "He's fine." And he kisses me some more, and yeah much as I love him I don't want to think of Dad right now either.

He's already warming the front of me, "You smell like honey," he says. "How am I going to keep my hands off of you?"

"Bath and Body Works. And don't," I say.

"I don't want to. I want to touch you," he says close to my ear, so close his breath is so warm and the kiss on my neck there, my god. He laughs and says to be quiet.

"I want your hands on me. I want them all over," I say, and he squeezes me so hard and it feels perfect. It's what I need.

"You're not wearing a bra," he says like he just discovered I've been embezzling funds from a children's home. "I can't wait until it's just us, nothing between us. I'm going to make love to you all night," he pretty much vows.

"All night?" Incredible as it sounds, my vagina spasms just to remind me it might act up. "Bring it on," I say and I have to grin cause I'm so bad and he is too, and we crack up then. We both hear Juney calling my name, and I squirm out of his arms.

I am walking noisily in my boots, and he watches as I peer at him through the narrowing crack in the door. "Go," I say.

"You go," he says standing there breaking my heart with his beauty.

"You," I whisper not wanting to close the door on him.

"What are you guys doing?" Juney says, that thing in his voice kids get when they're around lovey dovey. He may not know everything that just went on, but he knows stuff is going on. Because…it is.


	33. Chapter 33

Look How You Turned Out 33

Juney has to give his dad a goodnight kiss. I've always loved watching their affection. Edward takes this job of fathering very seriously. I think when I see them it makes me think of me and Dad.

They look so much alike, their two heads, Edward gathering his son in for a hug, and Juney open and reciprocal.

Juney is just starting to get gangly, his wrist bones and ankles, his elbows and knees especially. It's like watching Edward through all the stages of his development. Juney shows an unguarded unjaded self and I see the tenderness Edward has layered over with maturity and the reality of living.

We part ways then, and Juney takes my hand and pulls me back into the living room and I swear I am walking two inches above the floor. He flings me toward the couch and I go with it and face-plant there.

"Don't move," he commands and he starts the movie.

I lift my face and look at the television and groan. "Not Mrs. Doubtfire."

"Yeah, it's so funny."

"You just like the smoking boobies," I say, and he cracks up because that's the part he loves.

He's standing there pointing the remote at the television. "Do you like my dad or something?"

"What? Yeah," I say, sitting up and clearing my throat. "You getting your report ready for Charlie?"

He doesn't answer but he's grinning as he lays the remote on the coffee table then dives onto his big bean-bag.

"Still earning that phone or has he upped the ante? Maybe a little deputy uniform just your size…a four-wheeler with a siren?"

He likes that idea. "That would be awesome," he says.

"Officer Juney," I say.

"Officer Cullen," he corrects and the movie begins.

111111111111111111

Juney falls asleep in the first twenty minutes of Doubtfire and I wake him up and get him into my bed. He doesn't protest too much but I have to promise to watch the rest of the movie for breakfast.

So I'm in the crowsnest, and I feel how cold the glass is and there will be no naked clinging, but it makes me laugh a little. I tried not to spy on Edward, but you know what they say, 'trying,' is not 'doing.' So I sit at the window like a peeping granny, waiting for him to return from his run.

The streetlight reaches enough that I have a pretty good view and I don't need to take an extreme measure and get Charlie's night vision goggles or anything.

I feel this possession of him, and it's protective. I know people worry about those terms and what they mean in a relationship, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I want every inch of him. Yes, the six point five, and yes it's not a competition with Juney or his job or his personhood, whatever all that means, but I want him.

I think it's the break-up that's worrying me. As of right now, another woman thinks he's hers. That's the thing that's keeping me from sleeping. But I also want him safe. And I'm watching.

If something happened to him…I'm glad he's getting out of it…police work. The pay is lousy. The hours suck. The danger aspect is ridiculous, even here in Forks. It's him they call when it's beyond them, whatever it is, human, animal, extraterrestrial. It's him they put between themselves and danger.

I've grown up this way but I never take it for granted that Dad will come home, that he will. Dad tells me I'm overthinking, that the future isn't guaranteed for anyone and you be as safe as you can be and the rest is faith, but how many nights did I sit in the window waiting for him? It was Edward with him that finally calmed me down. The two of them seemed like a force of strength, impenetrable.

Then here he comes, he jogs to his walkway and stops. He walks up the sidewalk and looks over his shoulder at the house, this window maybe.

I don't wave. He can't see me.

I go to my bed and sit slowly. In a few hours, he'll tell her. He'll let her know. He's mine.

My phone buzzes then.

"You up?" him

"Am now." Me

"Wanted to say goodnight."

"Liar."

"What?"

"You really want to say goodnight?"

It's a few extra seconds before my phone buzzes with a reply. "No. But I am anyway."

"Such a good boy."

"Yeah? I'm that good?"

"Charlie's little deputy."

"Works for me."

"Nobody says that anymore."

"You're so hip."

"Hips. Now there' a conversation."

"I like…love your hips baby."

It's a few extra seconds before I buzz his phone with a reply. "Specifics."

"Send me a picture." him

I stare at my lap. I'm wearing Yoga pants. I've never done this. Jake wanted to but no way. I snap a shot of my lap, basically. It's so boring. Then I get an idea. I quietly hurry downstairs and get my volleyball and a basketball from the mudroom. I take off the pants and stuff both balls in them and lay them on the coffee table like a big lop-sided ass bending over the table. I set on the floor behind them and snap an eye-level shot. It comes out perfect. I tag the picture, 'come and get it' for lack of a better idea. I am cracking myself up here.

I send it off and I'm giddy waiting. Every Christmas of my life has been spent in this room, all of my childish anticipation for all of those gifts, so much excitement it could pulverize an elephant, but nothing comes close to what I'm feeling as I wait.

It's a few seconds, then it buzzes. "Marry me."


	34. Chapter 34

Look How You Turned Out 34

When I don't answer right away he texts, "Where's your big balls now?"

I don't answer. I think he's joking. Afterall, we were joking and I texted my homemade ass and he joke-texted 'marry me.'

"Meet me in the street." him

I shake the balls out of my pants, odd I know, and put them on and go to the mudroom and stick my feet in my boots again and put on Charlie's big jacket.

I hurry outside and he's halfway down his walk and we meet in the middle of the road. His hands slide into the open sides of the coat and he's not wearing any protective weather stuff, just his t-shirt still damp from his run.

"Are you joking?" I ask right away. "You are, right?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Was it a joke?" me

"Do you want it to be?"

"Oh no buddy. You are so going out on a limb on this one."

"Just trying to get a reaction," he says.

"Like…hysterical…or what?"

"Is it such a bad idea?"

"You were joking, right? You don't use that as a test run."

"What if I didn't?"

"Just a joke, right?"

"What if it wasn't?"

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Not going out on a limb."

"I was softening you up."

"For what?"

"To the idea. By using it in a…light way."

"Bullshit Edward."

"Bullshit Edward what? Bullshit you would never think of marrying me? Have you thought of it?"

"You and Ron Weasley," I say.

He moves his face closer to me, stares at my mouth. "You don't have a shot with Ron. But I'm right here."

The kiss…is unfair. Nothing else matters now. He turns me in his big hands and pushes me toward the house. "Go inside. Go to bed."

I keep walking. I don't wave or anything I just go in. I kick off the boots and drop the coat and do this zombie walk to my phone. I take it upstairs.

I go in the crow's nest and shut the door. Then I peel off…everything. It is dark in this room, just dark enough. I hold the phone overhead and look up and take the shot. I don't quite like it. I take my hair out of the braid and fix it around me so it covers my bralessness. Then I lean against the wall and extend my arm and click it. I review the shot. It shows to just below my belly button, obviously bare, but my hair covering the tennis balls on my chest. And I have managed, by accident to look all 'who me?'

I tag it, 'look how I turned out.' Then I hit send.


	35. Chapter 35

Look How You Turned Out 35

I look out the window, my phone in my hand. I know the rules. There's Juney. This is Dad's home. He will respect that. He'll try to.

I squeeze the phone when the door opens and he steps out, without a shirt. He closes the door behind him. His pants sit low. He is ripped, even in this light, and I know every ripple from the many times I've studied him, including our run the first night. His body, like I said before, it arrived in my field of vision right on time. He has made me think, from age twelve, of a world of mysterious possibility. He is a man, A big cat of a man, a Leonardo Da Vinci of a man, a balanced symphony of bone, muscle and flesh. He's a blues song, a rock song, hard-driving and sweaty, and he's God Bless America.

He leans against the door looking up here. He can't see me.

I hold up my phone and flash the light when I snap a picture that I don't expect anything from. I'm just saying hello, like Tinkerbell, wishing on a star.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and works it over quick, then puts it back in his pants.

My phone vibrates and I read the text. "Baby, Beauty…I'm looking."

He turns and goes inside.

It's the best goodnight.


	36. Chapter 36

Look How You Turned Out 36

The next morning Juney wakes me up. "Bella c'mon I've got the Pop Tarts ready and the movie pulled up."

I pry my eyes open. I feel like I'd been drinking the night before. I have an Edward Cullen hang-over. "I'll be down," I say in this voice I don't recognize

My sins parade before the backs of my eyelids. Sexting? For real?

Then the sweetness, the backyard, my boots off the ground, the middle of the street, his hands, his arms under Dad's big coat. Edward leaning on the door like the gatekeeper to my future-Marry me.

I flop onto my back my arm extending, back of my hand on the bed, fingers curled while the other hand rubs over the deep flutter in my heart.

Juney's back. "Bella, it's Jessica. She's walking up to the door." He says this like the Indians are coming and we've just buried Pa.

Ding dong.

I sit up and rub over my face. He's scared me.

"Should I get Dad?" he says.

"Um…," I can't get going for some reason. A hundred thoughts are besieging me at once. "No…not your dad."

"We should call for back-up," he says urgently well-schooled by Charlie and Edward on procedure.

I laugh but it's weak. "Juney…it's fine. Just don't answer. I'll do it. Go on so I can get dressed."

"I'm staying up here," he whispers running across the hall.

I search frantically for my robe and tie it around my waist. I'm thrown, but I'm not afraid now. We're all adults here…well Juney is.

I hurry downstairs. Edward is on early shift so he won't have had time to see her, unless he's been talking on the phone or texting, and I feel a stab of jealousy among my other emotions and it's real and wrong.

Ding dong, ding dong. I look out the peephole and see a woman not as young as me, extensions for sure and curled way too tightly to look natural. I'm thinking Shirley Temple here…or Betty Davis. Whew.

She's serious as in pissed off, okay, pretty enough if you like pinched features and a ton of foundation. She must know every trick. I get on my tiptoes to see more but she keeps ringing the bell and Juney whisper-yells behind me, "Don't open it whatever you do."

I wave him away behind me. I crack the door enough. "Yes?"

"Where is he?" she says, a hand on the door like she's going to push in. But my foot braces the door and she can't widen it enough to get past me without a bitch-fest-claw-fest and a chop or two cause Charlie taught me some things and put me in Karate because I would only let people touch my arm if I had on my sweater, even in summer. So after two years of an all-boy class I can stay focused when I'm hurt believe me.

"Slow down," I say.

"For the last two thousand miles I've looked at your smug face you little bitch. Think I'm going to step back for you because your daddy is some has-been sheriff?"

Charlie always told me, when someone is upset you don't match their emotion. A calm person is a thinking person, a calm person is a leader.

"He's not home and he wasn't going in to work, so where is he?" she says. Whiteners. I'm blind.

"Charlie?" I say because it's not my job to read her mind.

"Edward," she screams.

I am struck at how desperate she is, how angry. She lights up her phone and sticks it in my face, the picture from the market. Amazing nails. She could never stack wood.

"Don't tell me you haven't met," she sneers.

"There's his house," I say, stater of the obvious but some people don't require much creativity so why expend your energy? That's what I say.

"And this is your mug and he's looking at you." She sticks it in my face again but gives me no time to see the evidence that Edward can focus on singular objects.

"Your friend took that while I was shopping," I say. "I was standing by the Dentyne and holding a pound of brussel sprouts."

"He's my boyfriend." Big, big 'my' here, and an orator's hand to go with it. I have this flash of Richard Burton playing Mark Antony. Strange, I know.

"Maybe when you calm down you can talk to Officer Cullen," I say.

"What the hell do you think you've been doing going behind my back? Did you think I'd take that?"

A laundry list of the things I've been doing runs through my mind, all with Edward of course, kissing, rubbing, panting, losing it, sexting, jogging, hugging, staring, loving, planning, wanting, wanting.

Here's what I say though, and it's cold bitch, so cold it must be some latent part of my mother I hadn't needed before, "I don't think of you at all. I don't know you."

I hear Juney on my phone. He's calling his dad.

She takes one step back. That puts one foot on the step another stays on the porch. Her boots have spiked heels so it takes some amazing form to pull this off. But she looks ready to spring up in my grill at the least provocation.

"I go away for four days and…how long have you been back?"

"You need to go home," I say. "I can see how upset you are. But you can't come here like this. Now I'm going to close the door and if you're not in your car in two minutes I'm calling Fork's finest."

Yeah I said it. Didn't I? I said it and moved my neck.

"Is he here now? Is he?" She steps up. I don't like her boots…at all. I see weapons. "Sharon said you were all over him."

"Sharon…?"

"Coy's wife," she screams.

I put my hand up. Sharon only thinks she saw the good stuff. I say, "I'm closing the door now. Go home."

I do close the door. She hits it once. I have turned the deadbolt. I listen and wait, I look through the peephole. She gives my door the finger and marches down my sidewalk. That ass…she could do some squats and that's all I'm going to say.

Edward pulls up.

"Juney," I whisper, then realize he's at the window I'm going to next. I budge in and my arm is against his.

"She's got an awful temper," he says. "Should we get Charlie's rifle?"

I look at him in shock. "You didn't say…."

"Kidding," he says his eyes still on the scene of those boots, that ass rolling toward where Edward is getting out of the patrol car with that look he must use on a domestic when he finds the husband on the lawn, belly in the wind, brandishing a weapon and threatening to kill the wife and all her sisters.

I almost say, "Get the rifle," to Juney, but I don't want to be an alarmist. This woman can be defeated with a sharp tongue and a well aimed hairbrush surely.

Oh, she's engaging him. I can't make it out. I unlock the window and slowly ease it higher, the cold blast of air rechilling me as I realize the open door had done. Juney is bent down with his head in the break. I should send him to my room, but he wouldn't go. I get closer too.

"What is going on?" she's screaming. "You don't answer my calls and I hear how you're all over this slut," she brandishes a hand toward my house.

Edward tells her to calm down. He is serious and commanding. "I told you on the phone we would talk when you got here. I never meant for you to be upset when you had that ride home."

"Talk about what? What happened in four days, Edward! We were talking marriage!"

"You were talking marriage," he says. "I should have told you before you left but I needed time to think of what to say."

"All this time…you're afraid of commitment. You're a commitment phobe."

"I can't go forward with you."

"What is this a square dance? I thought we were getting serious! You let me think we were you bastard."

"Calm down and lower your voice," he says.

"Don't you dare tell me how to handle this you lying son of a bitch."

"You were moving ahead without me. You don't listen."

"Listen? What else was there but getting engaged? You won't move in with me like a normal boyfriend! Is it Junior? I told you kids take a while to warm up to me. Wasn't I sexy enough? I'm not twenty-two, but my ass has a few miles left!" She slaps her own ass and Juney and I groan in unison.

She continues, "You were nothing but can't's. Can't spend the night," my hands go around Juney's ears and I fight to pull him away from the window and get back in time to not miss one of her rat-a-tat words. "Can't try it without a condom. Can't move in together. Can't go to Boise with me to meet my family. Can't go with me to the stylist's convention. Can't be out late on a school night cause Juney waits up."

"I do not," Juney whispers, and I realize his face is right back in the crack.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she mimicks in a wicked voice, "I don't love easy. I think it's from my first wife, you say. So get some help, I say. Go to Gloria Gladdon, I say. She's helped me for years with my OCD and my rage issues, but no you say, cops don't get counseling for that kind of thing. It's a matter of the heart, not the mind you say. You bullshitter! And I cried over that. I thought it was like…beautiful! Well pardon me for trying to get you to a better place. Excuse me! I guess all it took was some new yang to…," I do plug Juney's ears now. I pull him back and shut the window on the yang part.

I am livid. "Juney…start the movie," I say coldly.

He swallows. "Don't go out there."

I run to the mudroom and shove my feet in the boots. Hurrying through the living room, Juney is still standing there in his undershirt and Spiderman pajama pants holding Charlie's mace. "Take this."

I can't believe he knows where everything is. I grab that mace to keep him safe, and point at the television and march to the door yanking it wide.

Edward looks at me over her head. She is clinging to him, her ass is toward me and he's patting her back. He doesn't have a coat on which lets me know when Juney called he came running. He's holding her. She's holding him and crying like a rhinoceros might cry if you could hear one.

I feel ridiculous and my boots make noise as I take some steps and fold my arms.

He shakes his head no, his mouth a grim line. I throw up my hands the key ring on the mace rattling. I start to retreat but she sees me. "You'll get yours bitch," she calls.

I plan on it…I don't say out loud. I only refrain for Edward's sake.

He's telling her to stop the verbal assault and she pulls away from him and tells him not to give her that shit. My work here is done so I turn to go back inside. Juney is there holding my tennis racket. "Get inside," I say like he's crazy. But next thing I know I'm grabbed by the hair and I'm going over backwards and the last thing I see is Juney swinging for all he's worth.


	37. Chapter 37

You can thank two days of bronchitis! And thank you for reading.

Look How You Turned Out 37

I wake up with Edward carrying me to the squad car. He's trying to put me inside, and I'm startled, but so is he when I start directing him to let me do it for myself.

"She's alive," Juney yells, and I feel his small arms and then Edward is telling him to get back and be careful.

Edward tells me to hang on.

"I thought I killed her. I thought I killed Bella," Juney is crying from the backseat.

"It's alright," I say low, but I have to let my eyes stay closed I can't look around. My hand is raised, fishing for his.

"Juney calm down. Bella is fine," Edward says.

"There's so much blood," Juney cries.

"Bella I'm so sorry," Edward says and he doesn't sound much better than Juney. Then he's on the radio and we're moving and he's talking to the hospital. He has a female with a head injury, possible concussion, he's five minutes out he needs a gurney and a doctor, and tell Gerundy to get his fat ass out of Billy's and be waiting at the emergency room doors, and call Tom she'll need some x-rays, possibly a catscan or an MRI. She might be concussed just be ready. That's what I hear.

"Hold on Baby," he says like I've been gunshot.

"You go to med-school?" I say without opening my eyes. Well the one eye won't open.

"I thought she died," Juney wails.

I'm holding one of Juney's hands and his other is squeezing the daylights out of my shoulder. "It's okay little man," I say. "You were brave."

"Juney, sit back now and calm down. Bella will be fine," Edward says, but even I hear the lack of conviction.

"Is like…my brain showing or something?" I ask feebly cause maybe they know something I don't.

Juney cries louder and Edward says no. But I lift my head and touch it in back and it's sticky as shit and my hand is red goo. I hope it's not brain matter. "Gross," I say.

"She's going to die," Juney wails.

"Juney for the love of God," Edward says like Kirk Douglas might have said it in an old black and white, all those sounds in his throat you can't hear but your popcorn is in your hand and for a split second you forget to eat it.

"Calm down…both of you," I whisper. I want to help them. I plan on it…if….

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

I live.

In the great mystic stew I'm still needed as a carrot until I get swallowed for good.

I have lost a patch of hair in the back and gotten some stitches and they've looked at my inside head and yes I have a concussion which is why the room spins every time I get up and I don't quite make it to the bathroom without going left of the door despite my best intentions, and ironically the doctor who cut off some of my hair in back said a good beautician would be able to help with the little bald spot, and when Edward and I groaned Gerundy feebly said, "Or not."

I'm not pressing charges, but Edward made sure Jessica got a ride in the other squad car, got to wear the trash bag ties on the way, got to wait at the station while I decided not to send her to the pokey so she could drop the soap and get hers.

Her remark about the condoms was enough, screw my concussion and stitches. My man had his 6.5 where? In that White Castle? He did not.

But then, were it not for the fisting of my vaginal walls, the tight knot in the foyer, Jacob's 4.9 might have rammed its way in to the hallowed halls of…my…Buckingham.

Now I'm stuck in Forks General for a night of observation. I'm using a wheelchair as I make my way to my father. Juney is with him giving him a play by play I am sure. I round the corner and to my amazement, there's the old man going down the hall in two of the hospital gowns, front and back to hide the crack, thank God, with the white elastic leggings so he doesn't form a bloodclot, and the no skid socks that the hospital gives out so patients can get traction on the mirror shine floors.

Charlie is rocking some serious bed hair. It's rising in wisps like it seeks the source of electrical power hidden in the acoustics.

His back is to me and he's working that walker as a therapist walks on one side of him.

Juney walks on the other, his small hand in back holding onto the safety belt Charlie wears.

I have to close my good eye, the one not black and swollen from Juney's McEnroe. I rest my head. But the love swell keeps building and breaks itself in…me. Love stains me. It dyes my insides. I'm an Easter egg, immersed in it and I'm turning all the colors of a friggin' pastel rainbow.

I might be a mother.

They must have turned around because Dad and Juney call out together. "Bella." It's my Kunta Kinte moment. I just received my name and my greatest role—Mother.

Techinically I'm still just Bella, but the groundwork is laid. I don't know why I didn't just say that in the first place. Concussion here!

I open my eyes then and wave. It's taken everything I have to get down here. But I don't want to be anyplace else. Juney says something to Dad then he hurries toward me. "You pushed yourself," he says. He'd wanted to push me.

"I know." He didn't come back for me. Now I see why.

I have to keep my head down and my eyes closed, but Juney is pushing me toward Dad and when we're close enough I say, "You're doing great."

"Better than you," he says. "I talked to Gerundy. You're supposed to be in bed."

"I'll take her back." Juney says, and he's pulling me back for a u-ey.

"Dad," I say, and Juney stops. I lift my heavy head. "I think Juney needs to be deputized. He's like…my Legolas."

Dad nods. "Looks like him too, short and fat."

"That's Gimli," Juney says too loud, but it's not like they're going to throw us out.

"Oh, oh my bad," Charlie says, and we start to move and Juney wants to be Aragorn, and the click of the walker grows softer behind us.


	38. Chapter 38

Look How You Turned Out 38

Black Friday drags on at Forks General. "Go get Grampa's phone and call Esme," I tell Juney from my hospital bed. We're really sick of each other.

"No. I'm not leaving."

"Yes you are. This is a holiday weekend and you're going to spend it like a kid should."

"No," he says closer to my face, familiar Cheetoh breath cause Charlie keeps giving him money for the vending machine.

I ring for the nurse.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm telling her to…," I almost say it, the cop-out pansy-ass thing I used to be able to say, 'I'm calling your dad,' but it doesn't fit now. I'd told Edward I'd call Esme hours ago. But Juney and I needed to stay together for a while and he needed to be here, going between my room and Dad's making sure all was right with the world.

What I know from our unique start is it only works when we talk to one another like people. So I tell him, "I'm going to ask her to go to Charlie's room and get his phone so I can call Esme."

"No, Bella no," he whines.

The nurse's voice comes over the speaker wanting to know what I need. "Can I get a decaf…and a milk?" I say.

His shoulders relax a notch. "I don't want to leave," he says.

"You can't spend the day in your Spiderman pajamas."

"They think I'm a patient," he defends. He's really not anywhere close to noticing girls.

"We're both okay, me and Charlie. We're right here. We can't get anywhere even if we try. We'd have to roll. Like giant Cheetoh's," I reason.

He stares at me, the pensive sober nature of his father evident. It's a nature bent toward worry. I can help them there.

"Did you eat anything green yesterday?" me

"That Jello stuff."

I roll that one eye.

"I want to stay here until Dad gets off. Everybody always wants to send me away to Granma's. If I go there I won't know anything."

Oh. I get that.

"Alright. You can stay until your dad gets off then he can decide. In the meantime, pick up that phone and order a salad."

"With Ranch and bacon?"

"Sure."

"What about chicken fingers?"

"Read me the menu."

He does this with long pauses and I know he's leaving things out.

"There has to be more than chicken fingers, fries and pizza."

"There's gross baked whiting," he says.

"Okay. Get the chicken fingers." I suck at being a mother.

Two big bouquets arrive then, and Juney is all excited. "They're from me and Dad." He checks the card. "This is mine," he says, and it's a nice fall mix. Not from the market. The other he reads in this nasly voice, all 'um,' and silly, 'love Edward.' Red roses.

"Cut a bitch, get some roses," I say and Juney rolls all over the couch laughing.

"Okay," I say, the confusion on me again to be more responsible, to look at myself and evaluate my lack of exemplary behavior. "No more cursing."

"I didn't," he says too loudly.

Around five that evening Edward enters my hospital room, a tall man-bouquet in the brown paper wrappings of his uniform.

"Oh baby," he says pulling up a chair, an air of authority on him. We took a beating but we won the war. I can feel how busy he's been meting out justice.

"How are you?" he says. "I looked at your chart…she had it pulled up…."

"You're not a relative. I don't even think I would have had to spend the night if it wasn't for you pressuring Gerundy. The local florist is open on black Friday? How far-reaching is the will of Edward Cullen?"

"Is your blood pressure always that low?"

I don't get a chance to answer before he's touching my face under my chin, his fingers light there. "My face," he says in this strangled voice.

I try to smile, but this is nice, his pity. I like it. Mi casa es su casa only make that 'face.'

He takes a manila folder from under his arm.

"What you got there? My grades from college or last year's tax forms maybe?"

"I finished the report on the…altercation. Thought you might like to read it."

"Um," I say, pointing to my messed up busted up head.

"Yeah," he says. "The gist of it is she charged you when your back was turned which was my fault as my attention was on my racket-wielding son. She'd appeared to be heading for her car then she pulled a move and…well who knows better than you. She grabbed two fistfuls of hair and pulled you to the ground concussing your head in the process. I grabbed her from behind at which time she turned on me with those frog-gigging boots she had on."

"Is that in the report?"

"It's all in there."

He's staring so intently at me. He puts the folder on the table with the uneaten half of Juney's salad.

"I know," he says.

"I didn't say anything."

"Bella…there's not one reason I can give, not one thing I can say on her behalf. She's laid herself out there. It is what it is. You've suffered for it. I can't expect you to forgive it, but I do hope you know how sorry I am."

He picks up my hand and kisses it.

"I'm not holding it against you. Or even her. If she comes for me again I'll let the law deal with her…," I almost say 'her big ass,' but I don't want his mind on her ass, so I just end it there.

"Yeah. She'll keep her distance."

I have my eyes closed.

"Juney okay? He really clocked you," he says with that pity voice again.

"He's okay. He was trying so hard to help me. Thanks for the flowers by the way."

"Least I could do. Between the two of us you got a concussion and a black eye."

"She gave me the concussion."

"If I hadn't pulled so hard on her, she might not have not pulled so hard on your hair."

"It's all conjecture Officer Cullen." I'm letting him off the hook.

He is on the chair beside the bed and he scoots this closer, so close I can see the healthy velvet skin and each bristle pushing through. Some of those bristles go this way, some go that way. They even grow on his neck if you look really close with your one good eye. His lips are so finely drawn, it's a joy to stare right there, and his teeth, not perfect, but perfect for him, for me, for sure.

"Bella…do you want me to kiss you?"

"Huh?"

"If I kiss you…will it hurt?"

I lick my lips. Except for the corner of my mouth under my black eye my mouth is fine. He is smiling…he doesn't much, but now he does, and it's something when it happens, like a good day breaking through a gray day. "One kiss," I say softly, for I must have one kiss or I will die.

He leans closer and my mouth is ready, my soul is ready, and his lips touch mine and I squeeze my butt cheeks and levitate and our eyes stay open and he's pulling away.

"One more," I say, and he comes right back, and our eyes stay open and he's here and gone.

"One," I say, but it's barely out before his lips are on mine again oh so soft and I blink.

"Kiss," I whisper, and his soft warm lips close over mine and my eyes close and there's a bit of suction when he lifts.

"Kiss," I say again keeping my eyes closed, and he breathes in and kisses me soft and tells me shhh as he lifts a little, then another I didn't ask for outloud, but I wanted anyway, and oh so good and I straighten my toes.

Then the kisses are like three quick pecks and I'm a baby bird screaming for the mother's regurgitated food, then they are so close there is no space between them and I lock my knees and forget to breathe.

When he lifts this time, my hand goes to his face and we share stares and breath and heart and need. "Soon," I say. "Very soon."

He is staring at me, so pensive. "It's not easy with Charlie and Juney. Charlie's the worst. I can send Juney to Mom's."

"Can I do it with a concussion? You only need me in one place, right? I mean I don't have to move around," I say.

He puts his head down and laughs. I was serious but I'm not going to admit it now. I'm kind of anxious to see if I can…you know…relax.

"I have this thing…."

"What thing?" he says, all business again.

"My vagina it's like…independent. I can tell it to chill…but it won't."

"What are you saying?"

"It's a condition. I should outgrow it, but then I'd have to be normal on this unique spectrum of people with this…problem."

"Speak plain."

"I resist…penetration. So far."

"So you never have had…? Charlie was right?"

"What does Charlie have to do with it? You guys talk about me like that?"

"Bella…I had the talk with him. Thee talk. He still maintains you're…to quote Charlie, innocent and pure."

I groan. "I just had a flash of myself as Bo-Peep."

He puts his head down to laugh. Again I'm not trying to be funny.

We have so much to talk about.


	39. Chapter 39

Look How You Turned Out 39

"Is it medical…psychological…physiological," Edward is asking. He's really getting into it. My vagina. Topically I mean.

"It's all that." Then I hear myself and snort and repeat, "It's ALL that…my vagina."

No he's not having that. "It's not from trauma?"

"No, geez, you cops. No trauma. The chickens are all in the henhouse." I say. But my hand, I've lifted it from the bed (still in the hospital), and I'm like squeezing it, like I am opening and closing my fist and he's staring there.

"It shuts up, it gets so tight," I'm squeezing my fist, open and close, then just closed. "It gets so tight, so tight you can't get in."

"Shit," he whispers. "Can't say I wouldn't like a shot at it."


	40. Chapter 40

Look How You Turned Out 40

Juney has missed my vagina monologue as he is down the hall and around the corner and down that hall with Charlie. Edward is very surprised I have made the executive decision allowing his son to stay here all day and run around in his pajamas. He's not happy with my decision, not happy his son has been running pretty free, but since I can currently do no wrong in my battered state he receives the news quietly. Edward had wanted to call Esme himself that morning but I had insisted I'd do it after Juney and I had adequate time to process a little of what we'd been through. And then I just didn't do anything. We ate and he got involved in football and Charlie, and where did the time go?

"It's not your job to watch my son," Edward says. "You're in the hospital with a concussion for god sake."

"We don't have to get upset. I mean, it's been a weird day, right? We'll do better tomorrow or something right?" I say.

Before going down to Dad's room to get Juney so he can take him home for a night of routine and his own bed, Edward tells me I've given him a lot to think about. He says he's had to start using some of that extra unused brain space they always talk about just to keep up with me.

Then I say, "New axons and dendrites?" because that gives me a lot to think about, under his gorgeous hair, his scalp, his skull, in the gray matter is a flurry of activity, human technology expanding to handle the extraneous data I'd been bombarding him with since arriving home—and what is all of it?

"My Vaginismus?" I say.

He's quickly tapping that into his phone. I've finally given it a name. I'm sure 'the system' won't have that term in its stew. He'll be reduced to 'Google it.'

He puts the phone away and says, "Yeah." A little smile, "Not likely to forget about it."

I'm a little shocked, then I have to laugh. I mean, come on. He laughs too.

Now there's even more of a build up. It's like a blind date where you've used your prettier sister's picture. The guy walks into the restaurant to meet you and there you sit with your homely mug and the flowers…the red roses he carries in his hand…for you…they keel right over.

My vagina is like that. All talk…no action. Big build up, blowing a trumpet or something…then nothing. Won't even open the freaking door.

But back to me over-taxing his brain. He's giving his list. My vag, then he says, "That still life in your room…you in your bed."

Yeah, I forgot about that, him perving in my room, me in my underwear, my legs spread. Yeah that.

"The jogging, the biking," he gives no eye-contact on this, looking at some spot next to me, "Yesterday at Billy's, my god," I think he's stuck or finished I can't tell but nope he takes in a big breath and keeps going, "that picture…well both, the store and…my special picture from last night, he kisses his bunched fingers and fans them out like an Italian, "our little make out session here," he looks around nervously or excitedly, there's an energy, like he's emitting sparks.

"Wow. I thought you'd say me spying, or that intense argument we had, or Jacob showing up, or what you texted…," I'm thinking the m-word but I don't say it, "or your…psychotic girlfriend attacking me," I nearly whisper. Our minds work very differently.

"Yeah all that stuff, too," he says, so maybe not so differently. Maybe we're made for each other.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111

After that conversation he goes to Charlie's room to gather his son.

In a few minutes I find out that Juney protests, even in front of Grampa and good old Sue. Then he cries like a baby and says he didn't want to leave he wanted to spend the night in Bella's room.

Then he takes off for my room regardless of his father telling him to stay put. So Edward has to follow after him, and he finds him in my room spread dramatically over me, the person who is patting his back and consoling him.

Edward and I look at one another. We're having one of our first telepathic parental discussions where I am actually culpable for something other than a hope and a prayer from Edward that I will be up for the special appointed and anointed commission of becoming a mature influence for good in Juney's life. And I'm telling him my usual—chillax.

Juney is past the point. It's been a helluva day, two days, three, four days since I came home and the world is spinning faster.

I am rhythmically running my fingers through his hair and he has admitted his little shitery episode in Charlie's room, so all is well.

Earlier in the day, when I'd relented and didn't call Esme, I told him then he'd have to let his dad decide matters. I very gently remind him he has to listen to Edward and he knows this.

He lifts his head. "I didn't…I meant to stop her."

Oh. This. Still.

"You did. I'm not for hitting anyone, but you were a hero. She knew that when you hit me…you wanted to stop her. You meant to. More than anything your dad did or I could have done it's what you did that might help her learn something."

"Like what?"

"Like it's wrong to attack people. Like you need to really hear people, see people to know them."

"You weren't even looking," he adds.

"I know," I agree.

"But I attacked you!"

"No. You were defending me. You're the good guy."

"You keep saying that," he says angry.

"Because it's true," I repeat, mimicking his intensity. He stares at me, but the black eye gets him. He's tissue paper. "I'm looking at you with this greasy grody eye," I say like a witch.

He laughs. "Stop it," he says.

"Want to get on my good side?" I turn my unblemished side his way. "Hi little boy. I'm Glenda. You are a hero. You get a star in my kingdom."

"It's not funny," he says laughing.

I stop.

Edward comes further into the room. "Say goodnight Junior."

"I'm coming with Dad in the morning," he says, scrambling for power. "I checked. They have security by the door."

"Juney…go home," I say tiredly. I can't reinforce this. Up to a point, yes. Beyond that, no.

He raises then. He's trying to be Edward. I think. Edward checks everything. Does everything. He walks perimeters, feeds furnaces, checks locks.

Edward is looking at me. He has his hands on Juney's shoulders as that one is standing now.

"Look at you two," I say. "Both so cute. My heroes."

Edward makes some kind of sheesh noise and Juney looks up at him. "Sorry."

He doesn't reply. "Goodnight, Bella," he says.

He leads Juney from the room. Juney looks at me long as he can and he's gone. And I'm relieved. His father's rescue might possibly save him from returning to an indigenous state. His routine and his bed will help.

And so I spend an endlessly long night of incarceration in Forks General while Jessica is probably at Billy's shaking a tail-feather weave or something. Justice sucks.

11111111111111111111111111

But in the morning Edward comes in my room pushing a wheelchair. Juney is with him and I direct him to grab my fall bouquet and I'll hold the roses. Edward leans over my chair and I look up and feel a little dizzy and he's right there and he says, "All in?"

And I think of a couple of things—the v-problem for sure, but that maybe I'd say that to him someday soon, my feet making the moose antlers either side of his head, and I'd be saying happily, "All in?"

And the other thing is how I feel about him, how we feel about one another. All in. And all in.

So I look up at him again, get the swimmy head again and say, "I love you. Edward."

Juney is listening, of course so I break away from Edward's completely mesmerizing and taken off guard gaze and I look at the little one at my side. "You too, Junior," I say. "It's love."

Juney looks at his dad like, what do I do with this? But it's more than gratitude for getting me out of the hospital so they both need to deal.

I feel Edward's kiss on the top of my head, and that's no small thing as I have two greasy ponytails so my stitched wound can be undisturbed. Then his voice close to my ear, his half-swallowed, "Yeah."

"Love you too," Juney says.

Edward's hand is on my shoulder. He squeezes there. Once we're in the hall Juney shifts his flowers to one hand and reaches for one of mine so I do the same and the knot we make heads out.


	41. Chapter 41

Look How You Turned Out 41

The road that ran between our houses became a gulf that Edward swam all that next week, back and forth and back and forth. Did I say he swam? No, he walked on the water, he skipped lightly across it.

Originally he discussed how I could stay with his mom Esme. Sweet, but crazy. I knew Esme, sort of, had witnessed her faithful shuttling of Juney for years.

It seemed freaky to think I'd become what, her patient? Bonding time around what, her making my lunch?

No way I was allowing that, or needing that.

But Edward was swamped with work, he argued like it was a given he'd been commissioned with my welfare.

If I stayed with Esme, Juney would be with me he said.

If I stayed home, Juney could be with me, I pointed out. And Juney wanted to stay with me. Other than dizziness, which passed if I moved slowly, I was a-okay. Juney still had off the rest of Saturday and all day Sunday, then he'd be back in school and I'd be fine to drive, go see Dad, live my life, look at the dust in my checking account, maybe get a job.

So the rest of Saturday I had nurse Juney, bologna sandwiches and Cheetos for lunch, and a big fat game of Life.

Sunday Edward worked and Esme came to take Juney to church and to lunch. When she brought Juney home she came in to visit me. For the first time I noticed how Edward and Juney got their color of hair from this small quiet woman.

"He couldn't wait to get back to you," Esme said.

"Oh," I said from my place on the couch, "I'm sorry."

"No," she said sincerely. "No. I…I'm so happy for him. For them. They obviously…are glad you're back."

I nod. I still look like I've run in to a door. She is not shy about noticing.

"Juney told me about," she points. "How terrible for you."

Surely she's met my assailant. She withholds comment. I can't help but like her. I want to anyway. She doesn't resent me. I didn't know what to expect as mothers are a bit of a mystery, but she is a good one it seems. Juney adores her. I always felt that unlike me, he had someone at least. And I was right—not about the self-pity, that doesn't help anyone, I always had Sue in a pinch anyway, but about Juney having someone very close to a real mom, I was right about that.

Before she leaves she asks if she can do anything for me and I assure her I'm fine. Then she tells me she wants that son of hers to bring me to lunch as soon as I'm back on my feet. I thank her and she goes.

It is Monday before I am finally alone. I drive over to the hospital and spend the morning with Charlie. We have a long talk about my future employment.

"How about you run Billy's for me and Edward?" Dad says.

"You don't need me for that. You can do that…and Edward."

"I don't want that much responsibility. I'll be more of a silent partner. I talked to Edward, and we both agree you could do a lot for that place. We'd be glad to have you."

They are both so full of shit. "Dad, all I'm asking for is my old job back. I'm going to talk to Billy about it and you two can decide later if you want to keep me on. I don't want you to worry about making my way for me. I'll figure it out."

"Bella, we are nothing but glad to have you home. Don't talk like it's some hardship for us. You know that's not true. Anyway, you don't talk to Billy, you talk to Sue. She handles everything now."

"She pretty much always did when it came to anything in the kitchen. Billy wouldn't turn the books over to her though. He was the decision maker came to everything else."

"He doesn't have much choice now. The dementia is getting pretty bad."

I groan. "I hate to hear that, Dad. It's like I went away and so much changed so quickly."

"Come 'ere," he says, and I obediently move closer to his bed. He stares at my fading shiner. "Edward is damn lucky I know how crazy he is about you. This should have never happened," he means the rainbow on my face. "You're not the one needing to figure it out so much as he is. And he's doing that. Him running Billy's…now that's a stretch. He loves police work. He was made for it. He was no more suited to that gal Jessica than David was to Saul's armor. He's been off his game. You'll figure it out, you've always known what's what. But best thing that'll come of me being laid up is him figuring it out."

I keep staring. He has major bed hair and he's still in a good bit of pain, but his eyes are bright. He doesn't miss a thing.

"What?" he says.

"You're like…the wizard of Forks or something. The man behind the curtain. It's kind of diabolical."

He smiles. "It's only diabolical if you don't mean well, Bella."

"Oh really? Did you know I wouldn't make it in Chicago?"

"I wouldn't put it that way. Of course I knew you'd make it. I also knew you'd come to your senses. Eventually. I hoped you would."

"You think I'm like Mom."

"No. I think you're like Bella. She's a little bit of two people don't forget, and a good dose of her own stubborn self. But you're bright like your mother, always have been. I didn't think it would be enough around here. Maybe I was wrong. Anyway…remains to be seen. Like I said, you'll figure it out."

We're silent for a minute. Funny how I can see he's flushed up some dishonesty in himself. "Dad…I'm staying."

"You're young…."

"Dad…I'm here."

He lets out a breath. "No pressure from me, one way or the other."

"Course not. You know what I said about Edward and me. You think I'd walk away from him? And Juney?"

"No. If you decide it's him…that won't change. I think you love like I do."

I mean—if I love like my parents then what are my options? Either I love like Dad, incessantly- even when someone has been gone for a lot of years. Or I love like Mom. And her love is a five minute shit storm and a short, but permanent see-ya.

But Dad says I'm my own. And I plan to love Edward Cullen very well.

111111111111111111111111111

That afternoon I am making a sandwich when Edward comes in the backdoor.

"Not locked I see," he says meaning the door.

"Good to see you, too," I say, because… it always is.

He is holding a ream of paper. Or a dozen pages at least.

"What's this?" I ask as he sets it on the counter beside me. I can already see they are pages on Vaginismus.

I snatch the papers like it's my undies he's confronted me with. "Seriously?"

He snatches an apple from the bowl and leans beside me at the counter. "Been doing some research," he says before taking a big crunchy bite.

I have this glare/smirk like I'm pretty horrified. "No way. Name your priorities. Right now."

He laughs. "Juney," he takes another bite and talks with his mouthful, his cheek bulging in a tantalizing way. "Sheriffing this crazy burg," he chews, then looks at me. "Your little vagina." Another bite. He chews some more, he swallows.

"Holy shit. I knew it," I say laying the pages down.

"I'm off tomorrow," he continues, "and I thought you might like to drive over to Mom's with me so I can fix her sink then we can go to lunch or shopping, see a movie, whatever you big city girls like to do."

"Me…and my…vagina?" My eyebrow lifts.

"I promised Charlie we wouldn't be sneaking around."

"Oh. Is that when you confessed what we did at Sue's?"

He smirks now. "You know what I mean. You deserve to be courted…a little."

"Right out of Charlie's mouth…courted. The 'little' comes from you."

He laughs. "Pretty much." He finishes the apple. "You and the asshole from Chicago…he make it worse?"

"Oh," I say putting the mayo knife in the sink, "just go for the gold why don't you?"

"Did he? That's probably why you developed this vagina problem. That asshole didn't know what he was doing."

"Sneaky. You want a…blow by blow?" Big smile.

He shrugs. "I'm not going to turn it down."

"You've had how many women?"

He shrugs again. "You'll be the only one that matters."

"Smooth." I shift around a little. "Okay. Ditto then. You'll be the only one that matters."

He unfolds his arms, turns to the side and puts a hand on his hip. "But you haven't had any others…right?"

"No women," I say wiggling my brows, and he's not laughing. I shouldn't give this to him. "I only tried with…Black. Burst your ideas about me?"

"Well you had to have tried to know…the deal," he says, his eyes kind of half-closed. "So what…he make it bad?"

"You want it to be bad don't you. I told you, no trauma."

"Fuck him either way," he says pitching his apple core across the kitchen to land perfectly in the trash can.

"You are so…." I hope he'll pick it up and at least define what he is. But of course he doesn't.

"I can't ask a simple question?" he says.

"My sexual history is a simple question? For you maybe. But you don't answer me about yourself. Not so simple there, huh?" I say.

"What do you want to hear? There was Angela, obviously. Jessica a couple of times. Obviously."

"Oh…did she make it bad for you? Or really good? A or B?"

"Considering it had been five years it didn't take much." He puts up his hand, "Not to demean her. I'm just saying…it wasn't love. You asked me that. It…wasn't."

I am two inches mollified. "Then it's strange that it happened at all, right? No love at least? That's just dirty sex, right? You using her?"

"Like you and Black. Exactly."

"What happened to big city guy seducing Bo-Peep…now you're comparing me and Jessica? Two Bo-Peeps?"

"No. I'm talking mutual use maybe. Yes. The thing I tried to avoid, I caved. Alright? Should I crawl on my belly for you while I'm at it?" he says.

"Ug I hate that. But yes, crawl a little while I think it over."

We are very quiet and the sounds of the house take over and I stare at the mayo knife and he stares at the floor.

"Angela your first?" I say.

"No. One prom night. Alcohol involved and premature ejaculation on her dress as I remember."

I laugh loudly. "Disgusting."

"Yeah. A couple in college. Alcohol again. One in law school-Angela."

"You're a whore on alcohol. But you must have loved Angela."

"I did try very hard to love her."

"Do you still…what's it like now…when you think of her?"

"Certain memories…having Juney. Anything good between us…it just went to hell. Then it got run over a few times."

"So I will be number six?" I say, but I'm soft in my voice, in my mind. It's…okay. Except for Jessica. But I'll deal. He's thirty-four. It's the past. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change….

"Five…technically. What we can have…a first," he says. "I'm crazy about you…Bella."

We look at one another. Me too.

"Can we please make out?" I whisper.

He laughs and we're together quick, and oh my God I am against the counter, the sink, and he's over me and his sweet mouth is on mine and his hands on my back, up and down, one on my ass, and my arms are around him and I'm pulling him close and he's pulling me close, and his tongue, my tongue. He laughs a little. "They'll hear you up the street," he whispers, and we're kissing again, and my hands are running over him, up his neck to his face and I'm like a succubus.

"Bella," he's laughing. "Baby slow down. God, girl. I'm going to have a heart attack." He laughs. I cup the front of his pants and he's hard as a brick, a solid eight, and he gasps and says shit or something memorable, and his hand is on mine and he's not pulling it away.

Then he does. "Oh Bella, baby, not yet. My god how am I going to function."

"Was it like this with her? Did you go to her shop…did you…was it like this?"

"No. Never like this. You're all I think about. I love you. I'm possessed…." He laughs but it's forced.

"Me too. I want you so badly. Come on me, right now, like that girl in the prom dress."

He laughs again, more high pitched. "I'm not."

"You said we'd make love all night."

"You said you wanted your hands on me…you really want me to come on you?" He's happy with incredulity.

"I do. It's all I want. You. Not anyone else. I didn't love Jacob Black, oh come on get real! I tried. I was such a weak ass sell-out." I'm undoing his pants. "I just got swept up…tried to make it work…but I knew even then…I left here so torn up over you. It's always been you."

He pulls me to him, is squeezing the air from me, but I can't tell him to stop. I've got the belt open, the hook and eye and my hands are trapped there waiting.

"Baby," he says hindering my progress by grabbing my hands. "Marry me. No sneaking around. I want you all the time. With me. There's nothing else. No one else."

"It's quick. Too quick?" I've been home a week.

"How? It's been years of…burning." He lays a kiss on me that buckles my knees. Fortunately he's got me so pinned I stay on my feet. Not that I care. I'm so in love.

"You won't come on me?" I gasp.

"Bella, my god." Then a muffled, "We should try the more acceptable form of commitment like an engagement ring…right?"

"Yeah…I guess." I say smiling sweetly as I look into his eyes…his eyes.

"Later…we'll do it your way. I promise," he says. He kisses my nose and does up his pants.

Yeah, we will. When my vag won't open, he'll have to spill it somewhere.

One more kiss on my mouth and a sizzling look back at me before he goes out the door.

I let out a big breath and smooth over my hair. In front I watch him pull away. He means it about marriage. I look over at his house. I would be over there, watching him pull away from that angle…instead of this one. That would be my home. I get my coat and find my shoes and fish Edward's key out of the pot where we keep keys.

I'm soon fitting that key in Edward's front door. Inside, it's dim and it doesn't smell. That's good. I enter and shut the door. It's a little sad, and it's plain. No doubt about it, these guys need me.

I go immediately to the window and look back at Charlie's. Charlie's is more alive. It's the better looking brother, similar in style but just more. I see the crow's nest up there. I wave and thankfully no one, nothing waves back.

Edward has a fireplace, well-used. Over it is one picture, an Indian holding up a buffalo's skull. Yeah, that thing is going.

He likes books. He built shelves and they're full. Books about nature, biographies, novels, Law books. He's practically Moses when it comes to that shit. But practicing law, yeah I agree with Charlie, can't see it. He likes the outdoors too much.

The kitchen is functional. Wood countertops. I remember when he put these in. I check out the food. Lot of boxed stuff. Tsk. Tsk. I'll be changing that. He loves my cooking. Used to come in the kitchen to 'watch me cook.' Yeah, stare at my ass is more like it, but back then I really thought it was about the food.

The kitchen opens to the back porch and windows that show the woods. This is like a family room, another used fireplace, television over it. Yep I could clock some hours here, cooking and being. Yeah I can save this place from its current state of arrested development. I love the open shelving he's put in. I love the wood on the walls. It just needs the right equipment. Some color. Me.

I wouldn't check out his bedroom, would I?

Yes.

The door is partially ajar. I push it wide and go in. It smells like him a little, and that's a good thing. The bed isn't made in the truest sense, but there's an attempt, the cover pulled up, a little smoothed. The furniture is masculine, a tall chest, a tall dresser, dark colored. It's not cluttered. A bathroom off of this. Nothing fancy but neat. The lid is up on the stool, but it's clean. Cleaner than mine possibly. I'm impressed. There's a hamper and the jeans I love are on the floor near it. I resist the urge to pick those up and hold them for a minute. Yeah, weird, not that weird stops me, but if I bend over I'll get dizzy. I'm looking at his stuff, his toothbrush. I picture mine beside it. All I can think is that I love him.

Then I hear something coming from the kitchen. First thought is that he's caught me. Then I hear the sobbing. Second thought is that Esme is in here sobbing. And that's weird. But I make it to the kitchen and it's Jessica.

She's got two hands on the counter, one of those heavy duty mixers pulled forward, the cord wrapped around her dagger-nailed hand. Her head is bent so there's a hair curtain that could keep out the sun. But she's boo-hooing.

So I'm standing in the doorway that leads to the hall and the bedrooms and I'm waiting for her to lift her head. When she doesn't I say, "What are you doing here?"

She looks up then, rocket-socket fast. There are tears and snot and streaked make-up. Her eyes show her shock that I'm here. She uncoils the cord from her hand and goes for a paper towel, fortunately placed further yet from me. She rips off a couple and starts to wipe the tidal stream.

Then she goes back where she was and starts pulling drawers.

"What are you looking for?"

"My pie server," she says, no eye contact.

She finally seems to find it, throws it in the mixer's bowl.

"Does Edward know you're here?" I say.

"What's it to you. I came for my stuff." She starts to scoop the heavy appliance off the counter then stops. "I'm not sorry about what I did. You're a little cheater."

"Better go now."

"I am." Then in a terrible voice she screams, "I'm devastated! I'm crushed!"

I sniff, but it's just to buy time. "I'll get the door."

"We were going to get married."

I start to walk through the corner of the kitchen in to the living room. I see the door.

Her hand is on my arm. When I turn she pulls it away, holds her hands up like she's proving she means no harm. "I shouldn't have gone for you, all right? But what do you expect? I leave home practically engaged and I come home to him cheating on me."

"Get your stuff," I say going for the door again. I open it, stand there holding it. I hear her in the kitchen. Something breaks.

"Come on," I yell.

She comes out sniffing and carrying the heavy mixer. I make a note to stay out of its way.

"I have another load," she says.

"I'll get it," I say. As soon as she's out I close and lock the door. I go in the kitchen, see a smashed bowl, carefully step around it and grab a couple of Tupperware things she has setting there.

She couldn't get back in because I locked the door. She's already knocking, pounding. No way I'm reopening that door. "You know," she yells through it, "this will come back on him. You're a cheater and a lying little bitch."

I lean on the door waiting for the sound of her car pulling out of the drive. But the next thing I hear is the tremendous crash of Edward's picture window as her Kitchen-aid comes flying through it to land and completely break through his coffee table.

Then I hear her crazy scream, the slam of her car-door, the roar, the squeal, the dying charge as she drives away.

And over the mess, the silent print of the Indian holding the skull of the buffalo high above his head.

I let her Tupperware drop to the floor and I kick at it a little.

Then I dig for my phone.


	42. Chapter 42

Look How You Turned Out 42

The police intercept Jessica before she reaches the hair salon. Right in front of it in fact and her employees and customers come out wearing plastic aprons and foils and clips berating the arresting officer who happens to be Edward. Jessica goes off at the mouth and that shuts everyone up because it sounds like a rant…from hell, Edward says later.

But the highlight is this-Juney's bus happens to pass right at that moment, and there, plastered to the window is his familiar head of hair, Edward will also note later. "Dad," Juney calls out as the bus grinds away.

So Juney is breathless when he gets off the bus ten minutes later. The house is still in its state of molestation. The window is empty, broken through with jagged pieces of glass evident in the frame. And inside, the scene of the crime, untouched, unphotographed as it awaits the next chapter-the flash from the insurance adjuster's camera for the claim and the extra set of photos Edward will request for the judge, as well as the attack from Edward's vacuum, broom and dustpan.

So Juney gets to see it as it happened.

I stand at the door, pretty much where I'd been when it went down. Juney steps further into the room and beholds the pink mixer nestled in the crushed center of the dark wood like a big bald baby eagle lying croaked in its nest.

I watch his small Edward head as he studies the scene. When he's over the shock and moving toward acceptance, he turns and looks at me. His mouth is wide open. I know his words are coming, rising to the top like a gusher pumping right out of the ground.

"He's got her," he says.

"Who's got what?" I say.

"Dad has Jessica," he says.

He tells me about the arrest then. I tell him about the mixer toss. It's a hoe-down for sure cause that hoe is going down. I don't say that though. Not to Juney. But later, I'm saving that one for Edward.

Edward comes home a few minutes after he's handed his prisoner off to his partner to be booked and caged.

So she's in the pokey, at least for the night. She is charged with destruction of property. She's waiting to go before the judge. Edward told him to take his time getting there in the morning.

Juney and I are allowed to wait in the kitchen with Edward for his insurance guy, who is also Charlie's guy Drew. Mr. Drew shows up and he's excited as he snaps some photos and assesses the damage.

Once he is gone, Edward won't let Juney or I help clean the mess. He swears if Juney or I sustain one more injury connected to, 'that bitch,' he's going to return to the jail and hang her by her thumbs. It's not great motivation for either one of us to stay out of the way, but we do.

After that the boys from the hardware store come out. They've already heard the story about the mixer toss and they whoop it up and Edward pretty much ignores them while he cleans up the glass and the rest of his coffee table and they board the window.

I clean up the broken bowl in the kitchen. Juney holds the trash can. I squat to do it and try not to bend my head much.

1111111111111111111111111

"And you picked her without alcohol," I say to Edward the next morning after Officer Cullen returns from court and we are finally on the way to Esme's.

He smirks, but he's totally demoralized even though he'd had his house locked up tight until I broke in with a key and left it unlocked hence allowing Crazy's safe and easy passage in.

If only my vagina was so cooperative.

Cause I've been reading the papers, and apparently all I have to do is learn to relax the vaginal walls. I knew that, and I've tried that, but apparently I haven't tried hard or consistently enough.

"So every waking minute I'm supposed to do a kegel, which exacerbates the problem in a way because it makes my vagina stronger than ever, but I do a kegel and release," I say.

"It's the release that you want to focus on," he says.

"What are you focused on?" I ask.

"How hurt you could have gotten," he says. "How did I allow this psychotic…."

"Bitch," I fill in.

"…bitch," he continues, "into my life…all of our lives?"

"Juney knew," I can't help saying.

He closes his eyes briefly because he is driving. "Yes he did."

"Marriage Edward? Really? Would you have?"

He's shaking his head. "She didn't show this side of herself. But…not with Juney so against it. I couldn't have."

"But you would have gone ahead?"

"No. I didn't love her. She was just…I kept waiting to like her more, you know?"

Unfortunately I did know. I kept waiting for the same thing with Jacob.

"You can't really know someone in six months," I say.

"Not when they're hiding a complete lack of self-control," he says.

"I'm glad I could help," I say.

"Help?"

"Yeah. Provoke the dragon, get it to breathe fire."

He looks askance at me. "It's not funny. You could have been hurt."

He'd been there when she went before the judge. She had to have her business partner post bail. Since Edward was prosecuting he looked forward to a stiff fine and some community service at least...something to put her in the orange jumpsuit and maybe break a nail or two. That's my guess.

11111111111111111111111111

Esme's house is really nice. White split rail fences around acreage, a long winding driveway and a two-storied house that looks like it would sell for more than the ones in mine and Edward's neighborhood.

Edward says it wasn't like this until she married Carlisle. Edward's father had been a working stiff who died of liver disease when Edward was seven. Then there were the lean years with just the two of them, then the extra job at the law firm, then marriage to one of the partners, Carlisle.

Then things picked up. Edward went to college and law school. He had a little falling out with Carlisle when he got married and didn't take the bar. Then he went into the dark years with Angela, took a job as deputy for Charlie and the rest is his-story.

"You're my consolation prize," he says yanking on my braid.

"Oh, glad to know I have a purpose."

"You're also adorable."

"Okay, I'm an official stuffed animal."

"Just like one," he says squeezing my knee. "Soft little thing."

We are going to start kissing soon. He's been very respectable so far, all creepy because of the Jessica deal. I can't wait until bitch forgets about us. She's going to be on the back page of the newspaper for her unfortunate display of deeply rooted psychosis. It's pretty embarrassing.

But enough about her. My knees are opening like he's hit the secret button. Enter me please.

"Did you have an awkward stage?" I ask, because just his mouth, it's like perfect.

He laughs. "I'm having one now," he says.

"Oh yeah? This is your awkward?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure you'll like my mother."

I crack up. "Oh. I thought you were going to say you were embarrassed because your insane ex threw her mixer…near me."

Now he laughs. "Nah. Nothing awkward about that. Now if she'd thrown it at you…."

He is smiling, and I almost cup his junk again. Crude I know but it would be funny to get him hard right before he has to say hi to Mom. But he is older than me, well Jacob was too, but I have these younger ideas. I rarely act on them. If I did, I'd be Jessica.

So he kisses me, a stuffed animal kiss, then we're out the doors and through the garage and the highly functional cubicled mudroom, then into the palatial kitchen that is too pretty to make a mess in. Esme is right there finishing these gorgeous fruit cups. "Oh hello Bella," she says like she's glad to see me. "I was just finishing up lunch. Edward did tell you I hoped you could stay?"

She must think I have a ride home, like a pony up my sleeve or something? If Edward is staying, so am I.

"Thank you," I say. "I'm looking forward to it." I don't know why I added that last. It's like I have to lie and then top my lie with another one. Even I don't know what I'm going to say most of the time. I start a sentence and I'm like, gee I wonder how I'm going to finish this.

She's said something else and I didn't hear it. Oh shit. "Excuse me?" I say.

"I said it must be terrible to have your father in the hospital when you just got home."

Oh shit. I should have heard that. "No…I mean yes it's terrible, but no…it's okay."

What? Who says that? Yes and no in one sentence?

Edward is going to give me a tour. He hurriedly pulls me up the stairs. He's a jogger, and I am huffing and puffing. "My head," I say weakly to hide the fact I can't keep up.

Of course the mere mention of my concussion and he is apologizing profusely. I smile, a small smile. "It's okay," I say.

"Oh baby," he says in this low throaty raspy voice. I literally shiver.

He's got his arm around me, around my waist. He's holding my ribs. I hope he notices…everything. My waist goes in. I don't even watch what I eat. It just stays that way. I can't believe my luck. I hope it feels good to him.

"This is my old room," he says.

"Did you have sex in here?" I ask walking in.

"Just with myself," he answers, and I turn and he takes a quick step and we are magnetized. I am kissing him and he's holding me off the floor. It's stupendous as he walks me to his bed and we fall over and land there. "You're my fantasy girl. You're real…in my room," he says, his hands sweeping all over me.

I am on my back, but I stick my chest out and he gets it and rubs over my breasts and I can sing like Grace Slick, Alanis Morissette, I mean hit the notes. His hand on me, on the sensitive points, it's explosive. Possible blindness could occur. He is laughing and telling me to be quiet. He's nervous that way.

He kisses like…they should bottle it. He could give classes. Night school. Every girl lining up to experience this. I might have to kill people now to keep him to myself.

He is nibbling on me, my mouth. He nuzzles his face against my chest and groans. "That might carry," I say to get him back for always ragging on me.

He laughs. "I don't care. You drive me crazy. This body. God."

He lifts his head, earnest eyes, "Here's what we're going to do. We're going downstairs and I'm telling my mother that I got a call. We have to go and I'll come back later. She'll understand. Then we're driving the fuck away from here and we're getting a room. You know I love you, right? And I want to marry you. I want it all with you Bella. Everything."

"I'll bet you say that to all the psychotic girls."

He laughs a little bitty bit. "I'm not joking about this. You'll be it for me. I'll be a good husband. I'll be a great lover. I'll give it everything I've got. Everything I am." He takes my hand. He kisses it. "What do you say?"

"You lack confidence," I whisper.

He waits.

"I say oh my god yes. What do you think?" I say.

Just then his mother calls up the stairs and we freeze, staring at one another.

"Yeah," he calls back.

"Carlisle forgot his briefcase. I have to meet him in Litchfield at the courthouse. I'm afraid I won't be back for a couple of hours. I've left lunch in the frig so you and Bella help yourselves. We'll do this another day."

He looks at me. "She's good," he whispers. "Yeah, thanks," he calls.

"You mean she knows?" I say frantically.

"Probably," he says back, confident smile.

"This is so embarrassing. She's leaving her home so we can…."

"It's a gift-horse. Don't look," he says moving over me.


	43. Chapter 43

Look How You Turned Out 43

Vaginismus sounds like a cold unclimbable mountain. The isthmus of Vaginismus. It sounds like a suicide-ascent.

But Edward is undaunted. "Get everything off," he says. "I want to see you."

"What?" I say. It's my go-to word when I'm buying time. I really mean, 'what?'

"I look at that picture you sent me fifty times a day at least," he's saying as he rips his own shirt down his arms.

"You do?"

"Better believe it. And now I've got the real deal."

"I…what if…."

"Don't worry. I'll never get tired of looking at you baby. Not gonna happen."

His chest. My dear god. Tears spring to my eyes.

"You're beautiful," I say.

"You're the beauty," he says, shirts off and going for his pants. He remembers his boots, sits and pulls them off, and his socks, then stands to work on the jeans.

He's in his boxers and I'm still sitting there on his bed. "Oh Edward," I say. He's so perfect. I make gimme-gimme hands and he comes to me. I lay back again and he stretches out beside me.

"You crying?" he asks softly.

I shake my head. Not like he thinks. I'm happy.

"I think about you…," he says.

"About…what?"

"What you say. How you look. What it would be like to take you, feel you."

"I'm not stopping you," I say.

"Can I unbutton your shirt?" he says.

I start it for him, and he nudges my hands away and works on the buttons with one hand. My shirt falls open notch by notch. Underneath is an undershirt. I sit up, discard the blouse and the shirt. I'm in my bra. "Take it off?" he asks, and I reach behind and slide it down my arms. And there they are, Sid and Gladys. My tits. I just named them that as in 'nothing special.' But Edward seems grateful. I wish they were better.

"God," he says. We've sure gotten religious all of a sudden.

I lay back. The way he smoothes his hand over me, one breast to another, my stomach, my shoulders, over and over, you'd think I was beautiful.

"Look how you turned out," he says, kind of hypnotized by my plainness. I realize I'm naked and that's a very big deal, but Jacob never seemed this impressed. Love must change the eye. Love must make me more.

I'm not bad, even pretty good. I am a goddess. His eyes, there is no doubt.

"Bella do you know how gorgeous you are?"

I can't answer that.

His mouth then goes where his hand has been. All over. I am putty now, liquid. He lifts me toward his mouth. His mouth, there's nothing else. The feel of having it on me, I can only make guttural sounds. They are involuntary, but they are coming out of me. I try to clear my throat and swallow, but forget it. He reduces me to this.

He sucks a nipple and I am catatonic. He sucks the other and I am coma-tonic. I know I should participate, but I am held hostage by the sensation of his hot velvety mouth.

"Hot…sweet…," he says. His breath is that, hot and sweet and on me in places that don't see the light, but his hand is dipping into the front of my pants and he's there, between my legs, and he touches me there and, "So, so wet."

And that wet painted on my nipple and then his hot mouth and a long m sound as he sucks it off of me. Oh God, this is big boy stuff, my eyes are crossed, rolling up in my head. I can see my own brain.

"Edward," I say like the bride of Frankenstein.


	44. Chapter 44

Look How You Turned Out 44

"You get wet like this for him?"

I am shaking my head, frantically shaking my head. He's making me crazy. I never got wet for him. It was a problem. It made him angry. "Only you," I say.

But now, I can feel it. He's taken my pants off, my underwear he's left on, but he's in there. They are pulled down, but they almost cover his fingers. He strokes me and strokes me. I've come apart three times. I don't think I can do it again and then I pound on him if he stops and he laughs.

I feel for him, grab onto him and pump and he says, "Baby don't. I'll lose it."

So I refrain, and I grab his ass, I scratch his back, I rub over his hair and kiss him, and our mouths are open, and it's perfect and a hundred degrees, everything on fire, everything sensitive. I could come when he kisses my breasts, sucks on my nipples, I could come like that, then he rubs me, rubs me and I explode. He does it again and I scream as I rip apart…figuratively.

He's always talking to me. "You are so hot baby. You're all I think about during the day, you're all I see. I want to touch you and taste you. I want in. All the way in, deep in, inside you slick…hot little self."

"Do it," I yell. I pound his back for good measure.

He laughs a little. "I intend to."

His fingers go in a little. "You are the tightest little…I feel it baby and it wants me. You're so hot in there, so tight."

I scream again. "Edward."

I grab onto him again and pump. He lays on his back and his ass rises some and he makes me stop. "I can't take it. I'm too close."

"Are you going to put him in me or not?" I say frantically.

"I got what you need. Settle down baby. Settle down and let me feel it."

My legs are open for him. He touches me. He barely goes inside me, he strokes me so fast my body shudders then shatters.

I reach for him. I stroke him the same way. I hold him flesh to flesh and I go faster and finally he quakes and I say, "On me. On me."

He takes his dick in hand and shoots it on my stomach, all over it goes. I lay back a sweaty sticky panting mess. I'm laughing a little, and he has his arms around me and he's kissing my mouth, my neck. He's laughing. "That was fantastic," he says.

"Yeah," I say. It was.


	45. Chapter 45

Look How You Turned Out 45

He is pulling me along Esme's second story landing that leads from his old bedroom. I'm holding his hand with both of mine and I follow him along with these irregular steps, like a couple of small then a couple big ones and I can feel my ass bouncing along behind me.

He holds the sheets under his other arm. They're in a big messy ball. I made him take them off. I'm insisting he lets me take them home to wash them and he says that's nuts. He'll stick them in Esme's washer and add the soap and run them through, but I'm too embarrassed about it, well not really so much, but he pulls me along down the stairs and I say, "I lurve you. I loive you. I lauve you."

He laughs at this. I am barely aware of my surroundings, Esme's beautiful house. "Do you want lunch," he says as he stuffs the sheets in, and I'm against his back now, my arms locked around his waist, my cheek smooshed against his back. His heart sounds so strong. "No," I say.

I do want lunch. I'm starving. But I can't settle down and eat here and have her walk in and see me eating her food when I've been licking her…well we've been getting it on under her very roof.

"Juney," I try to say, but it's more like Jew-ey because I also can't pronounce my words right now.

"Yeah we still have plenty of time," he says whirring up the fancy machine. He turns and pretty soon I'm under his arm and still holding on to him and his arm is around me and we're squeezing through the door from Esme's laundry room and we're heading into the garage. "We'll grab something on the way home," he says and I'm thinking yeah, please grab something…. I'm jelly, I'm toast, but he's got all this energy, he radiates it. I think my orgasms have empowered him.

We get in the garage and before we're out that door we're kissing. God he can kiss.

He asks if I had a good time. Yes, I say with a southern accent no less, like yay-ess.

Did I like his room? Yes, I say.

Do I like him? Yes, oh yes, I say.

He likes me, he says. He likes all of me, he says, appreciative hand on my ass.

So it's like that for a few minutes and finally we are in the truck and you couldn't squeeze a quarter between us and he's holding my hand so his knuckles are resting right there where my thighs meet the gate of Moira, speak friend and enter. I have hope now, hope he'll figure it out.

It's more kissing in the driveway, but I'm afraid Esme will come and catch us, so I tell him we have to get going. We have to.

And how I feel riding in the truck with him…I feel older. Grown up. He seems younger. Joyous. I don't have any shame, any sense of failure. That's all I knew with Jacob. It wasn't really his fault. It's just…he was so disappointed in me. I drank alcohol to relax. We got in the bed. I stayed there and worked and he worked and we failed.

With Edward? It has rained on the desert and the desert is me and the cacti are sending out buds and flowers and little pools have formed and reptiles are emerging for a swim. That which was dead has been raised to life. To life, to life L'Chaim.

"We need a ring," he says.

"Who does?" I ask. My head is on his shoulder. I don't need anything. But him.

"An engagement ring."

"You came on me," I say instead, all tricky.

"Yeah," he laughs, "but we can hardly show that to Charlie or the rest of society, right?"

"Right," I say, holding his hand with both of mine. He's pretty brilliant.

"So let's drive to Litchfield."

"Juney?"

"We'll get the ring then we'll go home for Juney, and then we'll eat."

"We can get the ring closer to home," I say. "There is a Wal-Mart."

"We're going to a jewelry store," he corrects.

I am not a ring person. I don't know if I can keep track of two rings, one for the engagement, the other for marriage.

But we do drive to Litchfield and we pick out a sweet ring and the saleslady is looking at us with this wistful kind of look. I am the luckiest woman in the world.

She shows Edward the set, the other ring for the wedding, and she shows me the match and we end up getting all the rings. I'm cringing a little, but I want that ring that matches mine for Edward, so we order the rings and I'm wearing the one that represents engagement and the others will be sent.

All the way home I sit as close to Edward as I can and I'm looking at my ring and he's toying with it while he drives and I say, "We've bought rings." And he reminds me he was there.

I guess it's official. We're going to marry.

He says as soon as I'll allow. I think I need to wait on Dad at least. It's important he's there, right?

I'll wait for him to walk me down the aisle with his cane or his walker. But the truth? I've already chosen Edward Cullen, moved across the street, given him myself, said I do, I will, I must. My heart is his.

We beat Juney's bus by fifteen minutes. We're sitting in Edward's truck, engine running, heater on, and when Juney gets off he runs to the truck and soon as he opens the door he is looking wide-eyed. "What?" he says.

Well he did come home the day before to Jessica's crime scene. "Get in son," Edward looks around me and says. So he climbs in and arranges his backpack on the floor.

I have my hand on his shoulder. My ring hand, not that he'll notice.

He is telling us some news from school. Everyone is talking about what Jessica did and how his dad arrested her.

Edward says, "Juney I asked Bella to marry me."

He is waiting, looking from Edward to me. Then he flips around and sits back, puts his head back and groans but he's smiling.

"What?" I say. "You'd rather have Jessica?"

"No!" he says loudly. Then, "You'll be my step-mom!"

"Your evil step-mom," I say rubbing my knuckles on his head a little.

So all the way to the restaurant I talk about all the horrible rules I'm going to make and he protests, and I create all kinds of embarrassing scenarios, things I'm going to show up at school and do to him, like bring galoshes, which he's never heard of mind you, when it rains, or have the teacher give him a laxative every four hours. Then I try to check behind his ears for dirt. He's so wound up by the time we get to the restaurant Edward says maybe we should just get drive-through.

"But really," I say on the way in, "Jessica and the mixer-toss will be a hard act to follow for crazy." And Juney loves that, but he bets I could come up with something worse if I tried. I say how about I drive my truck through the beauty parlor's window? Juney loves this, and gets on board with what could happen, and Edward looks sharply at me. "Too much?" I ask, and we go in.

Then after we eat a massive pizza we go to see Charlie and tell him the news. I show him the ring, and I can see he's pleased, but a little sad, too. "What is it?" I ask him when Edward takes Juney and gives us a minute alone.

"Nothing, kiddo. Time goes so fast. It wasn't so far back I felt just like you do now. But you kids will make a go of it if anyone can."

I hug him then, my dad. Much as I love him, Edward and me are different from him and Mom. I know that, and right on cue Edward enters the room, and I look at him over Charlie's shoulder and we smile.

Edward comes in then and Charlie lets me go. He and Edward have already shaken hands. "I know she couldn't marry a better man."

Edward nods. "Thanks Charlie. I'll take good care of her."

"Yeah well…goes without saying I know where you live." Edward laughs a little nervously. Charlie still doesn't know about the mixer toss.

It's all love when we leave the hospital. "Got homework, bud?" I say to Juney as we get back in the truck.

"No!" he says too loudly. "Just some spelling."

"Oh spelling…homework. Get this kid home so he can spell his words for me," I say to Edward. "Yeah you've been little freebird without a mom around but all that's gonna chage now, precious. All that's gonna change."

Juney looks at me shaking his head. "You are crazy."

Edward says, "Juney."

"Sorry…crazy," Juney whispers to me and I tap him on the nose.

"Crazy about you," I whisper back and he groans.


	46. Chapter 46

Thank you to Patty Rose who wrote a very wonderful review on the Edward in this story on the wonderful site Rob Attack. I am most grateful to this excellent and beloved author.

Look How You Turned Out 46

So I get my old job back, and that's not hard at all. But the girls there now, they wonder what's so special about me? Well I haven't lost my touch, I'm all around good at this job, and this place is not as clean as it used to be, I saw that on Thanksgiving. So what's the deal?

I stay late and get busy. The true test of a clean restaurant is the walls and windows by the booths. I hate sitting and eating while looking at old food splattered on the blinds.

This is supposed to be Coy's job now. He's unemployed so Sue has hired him to come in at night and clean. But he doesn't clean very well. He does, however, pop a can of beer right off.

"What are you doing here?" he says.

"Working," I say.

He's a big boy, that Coy. He has big shoulders, hands like hams, I mean one of those hands could flavor a pan of Orc beans. And fleshy cheeks. He's always a red color, and I can hear him breathe. He has this beard thingy. Yeah it's not working either.

But he's Sue's baby and I've known him for years. So he's drinking his beer and watching me do his job. Sue is in the kitchen prepping for tomorrow. Working hard won't make me any friends but I'm not here to make friends and my dad and future husband are thinking of buying this place, well they are buying it so put a sock in it I'm not going away.

So I'm standing on one of the booths and assessing the top of the blinds and yeah I could write the preamble to the constitution up here and make a sweater.

"Shit sake Coy, you call this clean?" I say tackling the dander.

"Nobody sees up there," he says then he chugs his brew.

I'm messing with the first window, but there are six of these. I carefully step down. He's still leaning his elbow on the bar. "Yeah but they see down here," I say as I start wiping the blinds along the bottom. I'm a bitch, I know, but it's after midnight and I've been on my feet and he deserves it.

We have the Christmas decorations pulled out ready to go, and I'm not putting them over dirt.

"Hey Coy, you start the other end. That's three apiece, yeah you're welcome for doing your job."

"Nobody asked you to do it," he says, spoken like a real asshole under-achiever.

Here's the deal. This is my first day to work. And Edward is not thrilled I'm working. I had been planning on watching Juney and I will continue while Edward is working extra to help out Charlie. Trouble is Sue took me on right away cause it's the holiday season and she's busy as hell. And in two short weeks Charlie will be home, and Juney will be on Christmas vacation and he can come up here with me for a while, or he can just stay with Charlie. But Edward isn't convinced that my head is okay yet, and he thinks I rushed into working when I need to rest. And he still is disappointed I'm not in a holding pattern willing and able to be available once he gets off of work. And while I want that too with us just having the one time in his old room just a few days before when I got my new ring. The truth is…I'm used to earning.

I have his ring to pay for. He says no, he doesn't care about tradition he's already paid for it with his debit card and all that and I say no I'm buying his ring. And I have Christmas shopping to do. My truck needs tires. Edward wants to give me money, he says he'll pay me not to work for a while, but no way. Charlie would also give me money if I asked but fact is I've been earning a check since I started washing dishes here at fifteen and working is what I do.

I don't know who I'm arguing with. I keep breaking down the windows and washing the crud. We need the sunshine to do this right, but the moon will have to do.

Coy has lead in his ass. I'm on the third window and he's still fighting the cord on the blinds on the first one and I cleaned most of that already myself. He's got a baked potato for a brain. Sue was right about that useless upriver man. His sperm were stunted like a couple of tadpoles baking in a puddle—meet Coy and his brother.

"Need some help?" I say to Coy.

He doesn't answer. He's smart enough to know I'm riding his ass.

That's when Edward comes in cause Coy left the door unlocked when we're supposed to be closed just like I left Edward's open when Jessica got in but Edward coming in is the very best mistake Coy's ever made in his life.

"Hey," he says to me right off. He pretty much ignores Coy. "How's my girl?" he says getting closer.

"Your girl," Coy says.

Edward doesn't answer.

"Heard how you did Jessica," he says, and now we both ignore him.

I am trying not to swallow my tongue my fiancé looks so good, so hot. He's still in uniform and jacket and he has a new haircut he must of gotten in Litchfield when he moved that prisoner earlier today.

"Hey Coy I think I hear your mother calling," I say, but he doesn't hear me. He's starting on the next window so he can look industrious in front of Edward is my guess since he's almost the boss already. But Edward hears me and he laughs like I'm very cute.

"Why you still working," Edward says with an admiring smile. I'll bet he already went home and saw I wasn't there. Or better yet he's been by here a few times wondering when I'm leaving.

"We're decorating," I say, but I don't explain it all how one thing led to another with the dirt.

"You going on fourteen hours or something?" he says and he puts his arms around me so it's like that, apparently we're not going to sneak around. "Mom has Junior," he says low, and it goes right below my waist, like a little love rocket of anticipation goes off down there. Well it's Friday night, a night that at one time exacerbated my loneliness in college. And only for a couple of nights when I first moved to Chicago. Jacob Black came on strong right away and I was thrown, so thrown. I was homesick for…Edward…well just sick over him. And Jacob being older…it was comfort…and I was flattered.

Edward let me go. He never made a move, and I didn't think he would, I was sure he wouldn't.

Now Friday night has a whole new meaning. Well every night has new potential. That time in Edward's twin bed at Esme's…it's about all I can think about. I want to be there again…with him…birthday suits and what he can do to me. Mentally I'm a total sex crazed maniac pretty much.

And tomorrow we are planning a real live Christmas kick-off extravaganza of cookie making and Christmas tree decorating and movie watching, music listening at Edward's. Then on Sunday a repeat at Charlie's. But guess what, I have to work for a while on Saturday. Not the original plan, but Edward has to work too so Juney will have to stay at Esme's for a while.

We are holding each other for a little too long to make sense in the current setting with saggy pants Coy giving us the eye. My preoccupation with Edward Cullen is consuming. That's what really drove me out of the house to get my old job back. I couldn't just sit around and wait for Edward to have the time to have sex with me. I cleaned Charlie's and then I faced my own friggin' restlessness.

"I missed you," I say, and it's almost too much and he has his hands on my arms and he squeezes a little and I know I can't say anymore. It's too true and raw and real and exhilarating.

I want to go to bed every night with this man beside me. I want it and him. I want to sleep with him, hold him, roll into him, steal his covers, hear him snore, rub my cold feet on him, and my ass, whatever, I want this with him.

So everything I am doing when he shows up just loses its air, its steam. He's here, he's the pied piper and I'm a dirty rat. I don't care about greasy windows and Christmas anymore. I just want to get naked with Edward. 'Mom has Juney.' Yeah, let's get it on. Then maybe we can focus on cookies and Elf.

So in no time I'm following him home. I park at my house and I run upstairs and shower off the grime from Billy's. The whole time I'm expecting Edward to rip back the curtain, and it has me on edge. I don't know how far he'll go. I shave a few things, lotion up a few things. I'm dewey and fragrant and damp when I run across the street and he whips the door open and he's in sweats and a t-shirt, and he pulls me in and we make it to the couch and it's still dark and he's on the bottom, me over him, straddling him as it turns out, and kiss, kiss, kiss, and his hands under my hoodie and my undershirt, right on my skin his warm hands and oh my God. "I thought about this all week," he says between working me over with his soft wet mouth.

"Yeah," I get out. Oh yeah.

The window is still boarded up and the coffee table is no more, but other than that it's cozy. He's kissing me with his tongue in my mouth and then down my neck, my chest and he rips my hoodie off and pulls up my shirt and now I'm under him and he's working over my breasts and they grow bigger, I mean they are right there and oh god, and, "That's right," he says, pulling down my sweats, pulling off my Uggs then everything else, "That's right little girl, yell your sweet head off," and he licks all down me, and I am dazed and crazed cause his mouth has gone south and he goes right there, light licks and then deeper in, then he's just going for it, and dryness could never be a problem, he's making sure of it.

I scream. I just scream. It's all I can do to release the crazy. He laughs and moans and keeps going and my legs, he puts them wherever he wants to. They are out of his way, though he kisses down my thighs to my knees and back up and attacks me again and he stays with me while I come apart and say, "Orgasm." I don't know why I needed to say that, but I'm not making the best decisions right now, it's all instinct and it's working.

"That's right," he says in there, but he's not so clear either, "orgasm. Oh you want another orgasm?"

And here I go again, and he doesn't seem to mind the fact that I'm bucking against his face like a rodeo queen. "My god!" I say to the white plaster ceiling above. I expect it to open any moment so the choirs of angels can sing in exaltation cause Merry Christmas to me!

As I come down off the mountain of sexual delirium he is chuckling a bit, kissing me like an innocent, licking me like a candy cane. He's wearing the moose ears, but they might be reindeer antlers. I laugh a little.

"What?" he slurs, his shiny lips, like he's been eating a pork chop instead of….

"My feet," I say.

And he grabs one and kisses it right in the arch, then the other the same and they are on the couch and he's between them, just wearing his shirt and I don't know how that happened. "Tell me you'll do this for the rest of our lives," I say.

"Yeah, when we take our vows, that's what I'm saying," he says, and I feel the tip of him at the door between my legs. "Soften up down there, baby. Let it go. Squeeze hard and let it go," he says, and he pokes against me and my god it feels so good. I want him to push it in, force those gates, beat them open. "Soften it up for me baby," he says again, he's looking down there, his arm is straining on the back of the couch and sweat is on his upper lip.

"You can do it," I say. "Put it in me. Get in there," I say, my fists against his ribs.

"Nah, nah. Soften up honey. Relax. Let me play a little. I'm just playing."

His hand is on his dick and he's working it over me and it's slip and slide, my God, my God that soft velvet head against me, my God. He pressures just the right place, then he slips it up and down and pokes in a little, just a little and I'm made for it. I can feel that now.

"Oh baby," he says like I am something amazing.

I lift my hips, my legs so wide, of course I can do this, like Sue said, of course I can. Get it in there, I think. "Get it in there," I say. "I want you in me."

"Bella," he says, and I take a breath and remember to let it be soft, soft, and he is right on it and he goes in a little deeper.

"My god," he says. "My god girl."

Oh yeah? You like that? I raise my hips to take him in, to melt him down to goo, and he plunges forward and I yell, "Oh fuck get out!"

"Baby," he says strangled. "Baby you're so tight," and it's so warm and wet down there, it soothes the sharp rutting pain I just experienced. "Relax Bella. Breathe baby."

He's saying a bunch of things, I think he's hurt. "Are you hurt?" I say.

"Hold still baby. Hold still," he chokes out.

I ease up and he pulls out and I can practically hear the pop when I release him.

"Mother fuck," he says panting. "About tore my dick off," he says, then he laughs. "You got one powerful…," then he laughs again.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I'm so sorry. I ruined it for you, didn't I? I'm sorry."

"Shh, shh," he's saying and he eases beside me. "Baby no. No. Are you kidding? It was…shit!" He's laughing and he gathers me into him, and kisses me. "It was…fantastic," he says.

"Did you…?"

"Yeah. Oh yeah," he says.

"You came?"

"I didn't have a choice," he laughs. "You wrung it right out of me." He laughs.

"I'm a freak," I say.

"No. No, baby. You're fantastic."

"I'm sorry it hurt and I…I panicked."

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I think I went through. I did."

My hand shoots down there, and I just feel wet. I can't tell if there's blood.

"Oh Bella. We are going to be so good together. You almost stopped my heart, baby."

"Killing you is a good thing?"

"Yeah. Anytime baby. My little nutcracker."


	47. Chapter 47

Look How You Turned Out 47

Okay, I think. We quelled the beasts for a while. Now we can calm down and be normal people.

He wants me to spend the night. We are getting into his bed. I have showered quickly and 'm wearing his robe and nothing under it. He's in his boxers, his chest, his back, shoulders, I'm going to be sleeping with this every night? I am the luckiest bitch in creation.

I am curious. "Did um…did Jessica ever sleep here?"

"No," he says. "I went to her place a couple of times. I kept it separate because of Juney. I was only starting to introduce him to her. She cooked dinner here one night. She brought the mixer because she made a cake…for my birthday. She wanted to leave it here. It um…it sat in the kitchen…I was trying to get used to it." He laughs and shakes his head. "I knew what she was doing. But Juney was rude. I mean…she went to a lot of trouble. I talked to him about it. You need to know…it had been a long time. It was difficult for me. She misunderstood the intensity for…more than it was. Then I felt obligated. I mean…what a fucking mess. "

"I'm sorry. You don't have to explain. I'm sorry to be so…I'm sorry."

"You apologize too much. I get it. I have questions too. I'm trying to hold off."

"Oh. Well let's get it over with. Ask."

"I don't want to make you keep going over it."

"Over what? Jacob?"

"Yeah…um. I want to put it aside. So you had another guy."

"I didn't have him—have him. I just…here's how it was…he was this big deal. I figured we had no chance—you and me. You never…not once. When I left, you walked away. You took Juney and you went across the street like it was nothing."

"Yeah. It wasn't…I was torn up."

"You never let on."

"I wouldn't have. You gave no indication."

"Okay…I let you know sometimes."

"I was older. You were just flirtatious."

"I was not."

"You were, but it was just…you were outgoing. You got a lot of attention."

"Edward…no way. "

"At Billy's? It's kind of the way there, right? All those guys?"

"It's not a club, Edward. It's Billy's dive and diner! It's bib overalls and Crocs! If I was the hottest thing going in there it makes me on a plain with biscuits and gravy! You're the one who gets hit on constantly. You think I haven't noticed?"

"I don't encourage that."

"Edward, Edward, Edward. You walk in a room that's enough! Can't you feel the weeping uteri in your presence?"

"Oh I'm that hot am I?" His grin.

"Just that smirk. You know!"

"I do not," he laughs.

"Edward Cullen there is no way you can't look in the mirror and say, damn I'm fine."

"Bullshit," he says more serious.

"You seriously don't know what a hunk of man-meat you are?"

"Tell me. What do you think of my man-meat now that it's made it past the pearly gates straight into Bella heaven?"

Oh, his arms are around me. I am laughing. "Bella-heaven? Wow. Hey do I look deflowered? Will people be able to see it?"

"By people you mean our sheriff?"

"No. He'd never believe it."

"He'd shoot me."

"Don't ask, don't tell. Do I have that tell-tale glow? That star-struck luminescent aura? Your sperm are iridescent and they're working their way through my system and I can feel light shooting out of my…orifices."

"Let me see," he looks under the covers and goes for the opening in his robe. I squeal and kick my feet and he tickles me for a few seconds.

The robe is pretty well open and he hums and he's so interested in everything that is me.

He's got such good hands, they know just how to touch me. He is up on his elbow. "You're beautiful baby," he says. He's touching my magical orbs again. They are tender but stoic, up for it I mean.

"Are you sore?" he says.

"Are you?" I ask.

He cracks up and I'm not trying to be funny but I smile. He kisses me and it's so soft my eyes close and I think he's going to do it again but when I open my eyes he's just looking at me. "You know what I am right now?" he says.

I shake my head a little.

"I am completely happy. The only thing that could be better is if we were already married, if I could go to sleep tonight knowing we were bound to each other in every way possible."

Wow. He's more grown-up than me. He's been married before. He seems to understand it in a way that's still a mystery to me. I see that joy on him again. I know he's telling me the truth. I make him happy. He makes me delirious. "Edward…I am bound to you in every way. For me, getting married is just a formality. I want it. But it doesn't change how I feel."

"It's the deepest promise you make to a person. It's the risk, you know? It says I love you enough to take the risk. You promise one another, you promise before the people that mean the most to you, and even God."

"You learned this with Angela." I touch his jaw. He's shaved for me and his face is smooth.

"But not like you think. When someone pulls out…you realize how binding it really is. It's not easy to let it go. It means something on a level deeper than just legal. It's layered. You're supposed to be able to trust this person, right? You take it for granted until you can't. Then you see how serious it is. When the trust is gone…you see what a big deal it all is…you know?"

"I can only imagine, Edward. I've never…."

"I know. I know baby. I'm just telling you…I hope it's…."

"I want to know. Everything. Please tell me."

He sighs. "She um…she was prone to depression. When I met her she was in an up cycle, going to law school. She was intelligent. But there was always an unpredictable streak which seemed exciting on some immature level. Immature meaning me. She um…she wasn't happy about the pregnancy. She fell apart a little and I rushed in on my white horse to do the right thing. I figured we could overcome her difficulties.

"She went off her meds during the pregnancy, something she'd been so afraid to do. And she had a few bad times, but the pregnancy seemed to stabilize her emotions somewhat, which was a big surprise to her especially, but to me as well.

"But after Juney she was so depressed. She didn't have an interest in him. She wouldn't hold him even. I worried…I didn't think she'd hurt him on purpose, but neglect. I graduated and took family leave from the law firm I worked at, but I had to go back eventually and Mom took over. Angela…got worse. We saw doctors…psychiatrists. I worried she would hurt herself. My work suffered. It was a slow descent into a nightmare. She started to go out. During the day, then at night. Then she didn't come home and I combed the neighborhood. I did that at first. Then she didn't come home for stretches of time. Juney…he was always so incredible." He doesn't finish. We hold each other for a while in silence. Finally, "He didn't even know to ask for her."

After that there's not much more to say. We sleep as entangled as comfort allows. I see how it was. He's not blaming, not bitter, but he tells the truth.

I awake around three. I want him again, but it's not like before. It's us. It's this. The past is behind us now.

He is worried it's too soon, but he doesn't argue. It's not a big build up, not like before. He touches me to make sure it's possible. When he tries to enter me, it's difficult and he is patient, only nudging me. But I know now, really believe my parts work. They're made to do this. So I think of being soft. I picture this and he goes in, and it takes patience it seems, but he has all the control in the world.

But once he's in, he doesn't pump, I have my legs around him and we stay that way and I get over being sore and we try to just be connected.

"Still," he's said.

And I am still, letting my mind wrap around the miracle of connecting like this.

"I'm in you," he says. "It's incredible isn't it?"

"Yeah," I say and he gives me the single soft kisses I crave.

"You're incredible," he whispers.

He moves in long, slow strokes, and he smiles and laughs a little, then he's grimacing almost, and he's still, and I feel it for the first time, his silent release, his calm relief.

"Girl," he says, his breathing loose now. He is still in me, and he has taken his weight off of me mostly, and he moves to come out, but he still seems attached. "Baby, soften up," he says.

I kegel and he groans. "Am I hurting you?" I say.

"It's okay, babe. Just soften up so I can get out."

I make more of an effort, trying to forget he's in me and I'm excited. I picture my walls turning to mush and I tell myself to release. "I'm trying," I say.

"Just be soft," he says calm. "Be easy."

I close my eyes and picture myself like this, in bed, so easy, easy. And he is out.

He's drops next to me laughing and cursing a little. "Baby that was..wow… interesting."

"I'm sorry," I say.

He's still laughing. "Shhh," he tells me. "Best problem I ever had," he says.

In a couple of hours we have to get up, don our uniforms and go to our respective jobs. He will have to serve an eviction notice on a woman and her boyfriend outside of town, and I'll have to help with the breakfast rush which will include of few of the boys who shot a deer at the crack of dawn. But now there's this and us and our warm nest of love and every now and then his chest moving with his quiet laughter. Happy.


	48. Chapter 48

Thanks for reading…and reviewing? I'm hooked on your reviews.

Look How You Turned Out 48

I can work indefinitely at Billy's with the crowd and the state of things, but I am firm about getting off at twelve noon. I stop by the hospital and see Dad, take his laundry and leave clean clothes. Then it's home again home again jiggety jog. I have cookie dough to make. And sloppy Joe. So I rush home and I'm singing Jingle Bells all the way and sometimes I sing Jingle 'Balls,' too. It's like this, Jingle Balls, Jingle Balls, Jingle all the way. Edward's got a pair of balls that's all I'm gonna say…hey! Then I repeat that. Yeah, it's just for me.

I get a bushel basket off the porch, dump the new snow out of it and take it in the kitchen to load my ingredients. I run upstairs and shower, and change into soft and warm and I am barely in Edward's kitchen and unpacked before Esme drops off Juney.

Nice thing about Esme…she doesn't hover. Juney comes in the kitchen and drops his backpack and gets on the stool next to me. "What you doing?"

"Hey to you to," I say. "You want to brown the meat or mix the dough?"

"I'll do the meat," he says.

"I brought fries from the restaurant," I say. Nice, raw, seasoned, frozen. He loves those.

Now most kids, yeah don't try this at home, but this kid, he cooks. He cooks with Edward, even though it's limited to the box, but he cooks with Grampa Charlie, I know he cooks with Esme, and he cooks with me. So I find him an apron, tie it around his skinny waist, and he's breaking the meat up with a wooden spoon. I go to the big screen in the family room and put on the holiday music.

"Not pops," Juney says loudly.

"I know," I say choosing the oldies, Burl Ives and Perry Como and Bing.

I get out the butter and the bowl. "Where's the hand mixer?" I ask.

Juney is working the meat and he's looking at me, this innocent little boy face of his.

"There's no mixer," I say.

He's just staring.

"That's why she brought hers," I say.

"It's in the linen closet," he says.

I blink. "Why?"

"He said when you throw things through people's windows you don't get them back," he says.

What? So he's punishing her? Is he punishing her?

"Does it…," I clear my throat, "still work?"

"Yeah. Dad tried it. But it's pink," he calls to me.

I whip open the linen closet. Well, there's some of the Christmas decorations. Good thing we're putting those up so I don't have to organize this. Edward's collection of linens sucks. On the floor is the pink beast. I pick the heavy thing up. Bitch has an arm to toss this thing. I carry it back in the kitchen and heft it onto the counter.

"The bowl is dented," Juney notes.

"Yeah," I say. I take the bowl and wash it, wipe the mixer down. The pink is scarred in some places. I plug it in, move the lever and it runs without difficulty. "We should write the company and let them know," I say. "They should turn this thing in to a car."

"You're really gonna use it?" Juney says.

"We need a mixer. The only thing that would keep me from using this thing is my pride. And I'm too tired to have pride."

"What's pride anyway?"

"Pride is what you have when you meet people in the street and pull your six gun because they called you crazy."

"I was just kidding when I said that," he defends.

"Pride is what you try to hang on to so you can look cool. It's dignity. You know what dignity is?"

He sighs. "Dignity is like…not throwing up in class."

I laugh. "Yeah. That's exactly right. So me using this mixer is like you throwing up in class. But I'm doing it anyway cause I've got a pound of butter hard as a brick."

"You're crazy," he says working over the meat with his miniature Edward hair so cute against his neck. I'm never going to be able to be mad at him with that hair. And forget his green eyes. Just forget it.

"Takes one to know one," I say, but when he looks at me I smile and he does too.

When Edward gets home we have sloppy Joe ready and cookie dough chilling in the frig. He takes note of the mixer right off but he doesn't ask.

"It's her," Juney says.

"Bella," Edward repeats so Juney uses my name I guess. I can handle Juney but it's kind of sweet the way he thinks he has to defend me or something.

"It smells good in here. How are you Miss Bella?" he asks, kissing me in front of Juney.

"Fine," I say like a putz cause I have thought of kissing him all day. We get in two big smooches and Juney protests.

Edward goes to Juney next, "I'm getting to you," he says and Juney says, "No," but Edward hugs and kisses him anyway and he doesn't protest too much. "Did you have a good time with Granma?"

"Yes," Juney says. "But I didn't get to come home until after lunch," he complains just in case we were going to think he was completely happy.

"I had to work, Juney," Edward says. "Let me change and I'll help."

Edward goes in the back room to change and Juney and I start to make sandwiches and put salad in bowls. Then I get the fries out of the oven, Edward emerges in home clothes, flannel and jeans and gets a fire going and Juney sets the table. We set down to a feast.

At the table Edward is talking about a guy who was walking across country and how he stopped at the station today and Juney is asking questions, but all sound is muffled by my thoughts. This is our first dinner together in the house we'll share. I don't want this to be occasional. I want this to be my everyday life. We belong together. We work.

Edward is telling me how good my sandwiches are. I give Juney the credit.

"Good salad," Edward says with his mouth full and I feel his socked feet tangle with mine, and Juney looks under the table and says hey and pretty soon all three of us have our feet stacked.

"Edward," I say.

"Yes my Bella?"

"I was thinking…what if we get married on Christmas Eve?"

"Christmas Eve?" Juney says but Edward is looking at me.

"I think we could get Pastor Bob to do it if we did it around eleven, well before the services," I continue because I've been thinking about this and little else on a subliminal level since we decided to do this. Oh I may look like I've been all about the meatloaf special and if someone wants mashed potatoes or potato medley all friggin' week long, but this is what I've been kicking around.

"You wouldn't go away, would you?" Juney says.

"No," I say. "We don't need to go anywhere."

"Bella…we will have a honeymoon…when we can," Edward says.

"Can I go?" Juney says.

"No," Edward says as I'm saying, "Maybe."

"Why can't I go?" Juney says.

"It's a long way off," Edward says. "When we go you'll know where we are and how far and when we'll be back. You can stay with Granma and maybe Charlie some too. We'll leave you a cell phone and we can be in touch everyday," Edward says, so used to addressing all of Juney's fears.

"Why can't I go along? Bella doesn't mind."

"It's husband and wife time, Juney," Edward says.

"But you're not fighting," Juney says.

"What do you mean?" Edward.

"When you and Angela went away it was because you were fighting or she was sick."

Edward flashes a look to me, but he's got it. "Juney, this is like a celebration for Bella and I getting married. The husband and wife take a little trip. It's a happy time."

"But I want to celebrate."

"You're the kid," I say. "Sometimes we'll need some time alone so we do stay good and strong, see? You can't always go along cause moms and dads need time."

"Lovey dovey time," he says with attitude.

"Yes," I say. "Lots and lots of that. You know that. But they'll be plenty of family time too. I'm not going to steal your dad from you like you stole Charlie from me."

"I did not steal him," Juney protests.

I blow a raspberry. "Little Juney straight from heaven. He hasn't looked at me since."

Juney laughs. "That's not true. Dad?"

"He's pretty crazy about you, son. But he's crazy about his sweet little Bella, too."

"Sweet little Bella," Juney mimicks at me.

"Little Juney straight from heaven," I mimick back.

The afternoon is spent rolling out dough and baking cookies. Edward helps a little, but he has chores at Charlie's house as well as his own. Once the cookies are baked we bundle up and Edward drives us to the Boy Scout's stand and we pick out two trees and two wreaths, then it's back home. Now Juney and I make the icings for the cookies and dye some red, some green, leave some white and we start to decorate cookies and Edward puts Charlie's tree on our back-porch, then he comes home and gets his tree nice and solid in the stand. Then he sloppily decorates a cookie and shoves the whole thing in his mouth and Juney laughs.

Once we get those cookies done and they are covering every surface while the icing sets, we start the first movie, Elf of course, and Edward drags out his sad collection of ornaments and some preserved art projects Juney has created over the years. Edward puts the lights on the tree and then I have him pop corn so we can make some cool garland, but the popcorn smells so good we eat more than we string so Edward has to pop three batches. And Juney and I make a plan on how to hang the ornaments according to sizes, but he doesn't stick to the plan. Edward makes his famous hot chocolate and puts the star on top of the tree and has to mess with it for almost an hour to change the bulb and get it to go on. And finally it's not bad, and we play some more music and dance in the living room because it's not as warm, and Juney gets on the couch and shakes his little butt around and Edward laughs then says, "That's enough Juney."

Then we hold the ends of Edward's extended duster and limbo rock. And Edward can go lower than anyone, but he falls back on the floor and says oh my back, and he's laughing and we leave him lying there while we pack the cookies in Tupperware, including Jessica's Tupperware. Then we start It's a Wonderful Life and Juney is on his beanbag and I am on the couch and Edward comes in and squeezes behind me, almost knocking me off, but these are huge man-couches so there's room if he holds me tight and he does, and Juney falls asleep while George is trying to shake the dust of his crummy town off his feet.

Edward has an afghan over us, and his hands, and he's kissing my neck and breathing in my ear, and his hands are everywhere, one of them ending up between my legs, and he holds me there and the warmth of his hand and the warmth of me, it's fire. He warns me to be still and kisses my ear, and my eyes slide closed and he kisses my hair and squeezes my breasts, left and right.

Languid. I am soft, soft and he's hard, hard.

"Christmas Eve," he says. "It's too far away. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"On Sunday? Charlie."

"I don't know if I can wait. You're too far away."

"I'm across the street." But I know what he means. I know exactly what he means.

He tells me to let him up and he gets Juney on his feet and gets him in bed, and I start to clean up and he comes to me and tells me to leave it, and we're back on the couch and he's kissing me like the world is about to end, the ship's going down, the aliens have landed with that cookbook How to Serve Man and they're at the door. He's kissing me like I'm kissing him.

He quickly walks me to the door, turns on the light and we start kissing on the stoop all lit up now in case the neighbors have any questions. "Tomorrow," he says again. "Unless you want the whole deal…the dress and all of it. Do you?"

"No. Never. I just want you."

He groans and kisses me, bends me back a little. "Come with me to the casba," he says low and I laugh.

"Edward," I giggle, then we're kissing again.

"And we will make beautiful music together," he says in this sexy voice, and I crack up again.

Then I know what. I know what we'll do.


	49. Chapter 49

Look How You Turned Out 49

Scenes from a wedding part one:

"I still don't see what the rush is Pumpkin face," he says.

Is my face swollen or something? I'll just never get comfortable with that name.

"Dad, Dad, Dad, just be like Nike, okay?" I am hanging his pressed uniform on the door in his hospital room, the same hospital where we will come for an emergency…wedding. They're going along. I am the chief's daughter.

"Honey…you're my little girl dammit. Why'd that son of a bitch have to run in to me anyway."

"Dad…you've got an hour and a half which means I've got an hour and a half. This…pumpkin-face needs to look…amazing."

"C'mere," he says holding out his arm. I sigh and go to him, fall on the chair beside the bed and put my arms around him.

"Daddy."

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Let me back-up. During the night I've arranged our entire wedding, via text, with Edward. We are getting married in the hospital's chapel. The pastor will be there at twelve o'clock, right out of church with the fresh glow of fellowship upon him…or the exhaustion from the same, it's a crap-shoot.

The hospital's chapel looks good already—Christmas. Pointsettias and candles. Edward has prevailed upon the judge by now, and he'll have the license. Then he takes care of his mom. I take care of Charlie. Sue is taking care of the food. They are letting us use the conference room at the hospital and she is bringing the special-fried chicken, mashed potatoes with white or brown gravy, green beans, applesauce, and two kinds of rolls. She insists on bringing the cake. I said never mind we have Christmas cookies up the ass.

Our rings aren't here yet, but my engagement ring will be re-used in the ceremony, and it's my favorite anyway, and I'll just put his class-ring on his finger. It is poifect, and yes I said poifect.

Edward has only to get himself and Juney ready, and I have to get myself ready. But the thing is…Esme, shows up at my house at seven in the morning with her wedding dress. "Wear it or not," she says in her usual humble manner.

It is the real deal, more girly and sweet than I would have picked, a little heavy on the shoulder pads cause it was the eighties. Thing is, this dress was from when she married Carlisle, in the eighties, so if this was Braveheart, it would be the family plaid.

The veil is pretty traditional and not the atrocious head gear that was popular back then. I could never carry it off without the big hair, and my hair is thick and abundant, but it isn't intentional.

So damn. I try on that dress, with her help and it isn't bad and she gets out the old steam iron I didn't even know Charlie had and gets busy on the kitchen table—ironing, not anything weird like…dancing.

I apologize for the way we are doing things. Best she know now how unpredictable I can be. But I plan to change that—get more…predictable I guess.

"I think Edward likes you just the way you are, Bella. I've never seen him so happy. Even when Juney was born, he was over his head with his marriage then. But…you've reminded me that underneath that uniform is a very light-hearted human being—and I thought he was gone.

"It's not that I don't love the man he's become. There's so much to admire about Edward. But he almost became…humorless. That wasn't really fair to Junior. I…worried…."

She breaks down there and I'm thinking, 'mother-effin'-elf,' in my head, no pun, just thinking that because mothers are a black hole in my repertoire of understanding and I am the world's worst comforter. But I go to her and tell myself not to say anything dumb. I pat her shoulder and she pats my hand and digs a Kleenex out of her pocket and dabs her nose like a lady should. I guess.

"I um…I really love him. I always have. It just…he changed…settled in to this very sober man," she continues.

Um…sober is good Esme. Mothers want that…usually. But I know what she means. Mr. Serious about everything. But me…um…well his mother doesn't need to know how I've lusted after him and love took hold in there like an errant cell…and grew.

Bad analogy.

I mean I am consumed with love and lust as opposed to lust with a little love on the side. That's been my metamorphosis comes to her son is all I'm trying to say for the love of God.

I pat her more quickly, too hard I think because she moves away a little, smiles weakly. I pull back my hand, hide my groan. She has no idea of the depth of my 'spastic problems.'

So there's that…bonding time. And I'm definitely wearing the dress. And in no time she rushes across the street to get the boys up and going. I have a feeling she'll be rushing frantically for the rest of the day.


	50. Chapter 50

Look How You Turned Out 50

Scenes from a wedding part two:

Oh I didn't tell you about last night, Saturday night after he does his Pepe Le Pew and I'm making dirty mental pictures about the Casbah, it suddenly gets through, my 'Eureka I think I've got it!' moment-the scene of a wedding in the hospital chapel.

"Why can't we just get married tomorrow?" I say, by golly.

He laughs. "That's the spirit, Swan."

I shrug and he readjusts, moves his neck a little.

"Are you serious," he says.

"Are you?" I say.

"I…am," he says.

"Me too," I say.

We stare. He is standing one step lower than me and he swoops me off the stoop and squeezes the pee out of me almost cause man do I have to go and I've been holding it, but I have great holding powers…of course.

But I do giggle loudly into the night and one might think our houses are surrounded by hyenas instead of coyotes.

Round we go a few times and he sets me down and I'm so dizzy I keep my hands on his shoulders and I squeeze those a little. "We'll do this!" I say.

"For real?" he says, this big grin.

"Why the hell not?" I say all up in his grill.

Then he gets those eyes, those, 'I'm gonna take a giant step for mankind,' eyes that make my nethers twitch cause this man doesn't kid around once he commits. "You want me that bad?" he says.

I try not to laugh. I do want him that bad but…pride. I won't throw up in class. I won't. "Yeah," I say and it's so weak. Matter of fact I want him right now. "You're like a man-lollipop," I say.

He laughs and squeezes me some more. I think my back cracks. "I love you so much baby," he says.

"I love you too," I say, breathing heavily when he sets me down this time, and it's not just lust, or from surviving that grateful hug, it's some fear I think. I mean, who does this? Shit!

But once we part, and he walks backwards all the way home saying cute things and laughing. When he's in the street I have to yell at him because he needs to move it as a car is coming and I don't think he even hears its approach. It's like he just got dropped down from the mothership after being held and probed for a couple of weeks.

He says goodnight twelve times, I kid you not.

I am worried for him, but I close the door anyway once he's out of the road. I have so much to do.

And while I'm peeing his first text comes through and we start to go back and forth and yep we come up with this instantaneous plan and it just keeps making more sense. We're doing it.

"It's a story we can tell our children," he texts finally with a cute little smiling emoticon.

"You want more children?" I text back.

It takes him a while to respond to that one. When he does I can feel the worry, "Ha-ha," he writes. "Don't you?"

"You really think you can get one in there?" I write.

This answer is immediate, "Locked and loaded baby. Your co-ordinates are on my grid."

"You don't scare me," I return fire.

"Scaring you isn't the objective," he writes.

"What is? Oh yeah. Impregnating me," I correct.

"By-product of worshipping you," he writes.

"The objective is worship?" I ask.

"For life," he returns.

"Okay."


	51. Chapter 51

Look How You Turned Out 51:

Scenes from a wedding part 3:

Esme insists on driving me to the church in her nice car. The dress is very full, and I am wearing white tights and white shoes with it, ballet slippers. She's tied a white ribbon in my hair. It's borderline Pollyanna, the hair is, pulled back off my face top and sides, left long down my back but I don't argue because it's all love now and I have this feeling like when I was little and I went to a carnival at the Catholic church and there was a haunted house in the basement and we approached the cellar doors to go down and it cost five cents and I reached in my little change purse for my nickel and all of my carefully saved coins that I'd earned over weeks of doing chores so I could save for this very event, all of them spilled at once and rolled down the cellar steps disappearing into the haunted darkness. My two friends who flanked me, said, "Bella, aren't you going to try and find your money?"

And I stood there staring down those dark stairs, hearing the screams of the older kids who were running this part of the carnival, and really, really pouring it on, and I mutely, quickly shook my head. I cared about the money, but fear of plunging into the darkness was greater.

I have that same sense of preoccupation on me now. I can't worry about the big dress, or my hair, or how much I keep mumbling around Esme.

I'm getting married.

So here I go, and she is driving me and I see my reflection in the side window and I think, "You're getting married you fool!" And I smile slyly at myself like my reflection knows exactly what she's doing.

When we get there, I see Edward's truck is already in the lot. He's very punctual and I'm nearly late. He wants this, or he wouldn't be here, he'd be driving for all he's worth straight to Mexico, but he's not. He's here. So that's good.

Esme cuts through my thoughts. She says, "Bella," and when I look she hugs me. I don't reciprocate because of what I told you. I'm helpless now. I just submit.

"You're very nice," I say, and somewhere in me I cringe, but I can't feel it. I can't even feel my eyebrows so I move them up and down and I prove it. My whole forehead is numb.

She pulls back and says, "There might not be a chance later, but I want to welcome you to our family, Bella. I am so happy you're marrying Edward."

"Th…thanks a lot," I say. When I smile my lips tremble so I make this spastic pucker-mouth, then I rub it away with my shaking hand.

Yeah, time to get out of this car. I struggle a bit, but I get out and shake out the dress as much as I can. I feel like Betty Davis in 'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?' But no, I rebuke that thought and the devil that inspired it.

I have Charlie's overcoat over the dress, and I pick up the taffeta or whatever you call it, the slick shiny whiteness because Esme is just a little taller than me and I have a quick visual of me going end over end over end in the parking lot, so yeah I'm holding that thing pretty high, so high I'm almost to the doors when I realize I'm feeling the cold air like way up there, so I drop it a little.

In the lobby there's a few visitors here and there. This place is new and well designed. It's a big open space with a fireplace when you first go in, then as you walk along these massive windows as the front is pretty much glass on the left, on the right is the dining room where a couple of people sit working on laptops. The chapel is at the end of this hall. Straight ahead. Before I can reach it I'm overtaken by Sue. She's wearing her red quilted coat, but underneath she's in her black dress, her go-to for weddings and funerals.

"I got Leah to cover lunch," she's saying all out of breath. "Here." She helps me out of the ugly coat and she and Esme work me over then and Sue shoves something in to my hand.

It's a tiny bouquet of white mums. Now I might lose it. I understand now, I feel it…them…mothers. I have two right now. This is what mothers do…the things you need that you can't even ask for, and they give you those things, they help you straighten your dress, they put flowers in your hand and smooth your hair, and offer to hold the dress up if you need to pee, and you laugh and protest, but you don't have to worry, they just know, they care, they do because they are mothers. I get it a little. They're kind of valuable.

"Thanks," I whisper and Esme is cooing, and Sue pats my arm and we continue to hurry down the hall.

I have a vision then. Through the glass in the chapel doors I see him, my tall…dark…beautiful…nearly husband, dark suit, white shirt collar against his throat, hair brushed shiny.

I am stopped in my ballet slipper tracks. I am stopped at the window. His hands are in his pockets as he talks to the pastor. He seems calm. He is waiting…for me. He is happy, so happy. I see it. His beauty breaks me wide open like an alabaster box, and the perfume inside saturates me…with love.

Dad is up there in his chair talking away to David, another deputy who is standing for Edward.

Sue is standing for me.

"Bella," she says, "ready to go in?"

"What is it?" Esme asks when I don't move.

"Edward," I whisper, but I'm thinking this…_Edward. I see you at the altar and it's our wedding day. You are patient and calm, and you're standing there in your strong way. For me._

_You can't know how I feel inside where maybe for the first time I know a moment of true selflessness, something enormous and generous rooting in me, this stir of devotion…toward you. My love._

_I'm about to promise you…my life. I am about to stand before the people I care the most about…and pledge to love you in every situation life can throw at us, the good and the bad._

_I'm freaked out. _

_But I'm sure. _

_You have my heart Edward Cullen. I will learn to love you in every profound way a woman can love a man. And I know I'm young…and dumb. But I'm sincere. And I'm willing to learn. And from this day on I will try to get it right, I will seek to talk it out, to listen, to ask you to forgive me and let me start again. If you'll have me._

_And I know you will. My love. My heart. My Edward._

I pull the door open myself and they turn then.

Dad spins his chair around, his face…oh Dad. David moves beside Edward and the pastor takes his spot front and center.

Juney moves in to the aisle in front of his dad. His mouth is open. "Dang," he says, and Edward pulls him back so his hands rest on Juney's shouders.

Edward. His eyes…mine, his smile…for me. Worship. I feel that now. Just like he said.

My future, my men. A grace takes hold, a peace. And the mothers flank me. And like a bride should, I go to my groom.


	52. Chapter 52

Look How You Turned Out 52

Scenes from a wedding Part 4:

We stand before the pastor in a bit of a knot. There's Edward and I, center of the cake, our arms locked. Juney is beside Edward, then David. Other side of me is Sue first, Charlie in his chair beside her. What the…? I may be the only woman in the world to get married with her dad practically beside her.

The only one not accounted for is Esme. I can hear her sniffling as she moves around taking pictures.

So here we are, a crescent shaped throng, but I'm not confused who I'm speaking my vows to. I have barely looked anywhere else. At other's weddings I've wondered how they can stare for so long into one another's eyes, but it's not hard now, it's where I must look, the sweetest place, my emotions untied, retied…over and over. The sweet gaze of my lover permeates me.

The pastor reads, "The Christian wedding ceremony is rooted in God's creation of marriage from the very beginning. He designed marriage in his wisdom to enable us to handle the difficulties of life as well as to be a source of companionship and joy. May this be true for you as you purpose in your hearts to honor Christ, and to exercise patience and sacrifice for the good of one another. As you come to the threshold of a new life together, I encourage you to take your vows with earnest dependence on the grace of Christ."

Then to Edward, "Edward, do you before God and these witnesses take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife; and do you promise that from this day forward you will be her faithful husband, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

Clear and strong he answers, "I do."

The pastor repeats this for me…better or worse, richer or poorer, sickness and health, love, cherish, till death.

"I do."

"Repeat after me," he says to Edward.

Edward slides the ring on my finger and looks into my eyes as he repeats, "I, Edward, take you, Bella, to be my wedded wife. And I promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be your loving and faithful husband; in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live."

He squeezes my hand and smiles. He lifts my hand and kisses over the ring.

Sue hands me Edward's class ring and I slide it on his finger as I repeat, "I, Bella, take you, Edward, to be my wedded husband. And I promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be your loving and faithful wife; in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live."

Charlie sobs then turns it in to a cough. I don't look at him.

The minister says the Lord's Prayer, and Charlie is sighing into his handkerchief.

The pastor pronounces, "Edward and Bella have promised to take each other as husband and wife to live together in a Christian marriage. They have given rings as a token of this covenant. Therefore they now enter into the holy state of matrimony. As a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, I now pronounce them husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no one separate."

Edward draws me against him and we kiss. I am on my tiptoes, and his arms are around me, the tiny flowers crushed between us. "I love you," he whispers when we stop to breathe.

"I love you," I say, tingling from the warmth of his mouth.

The minister introduces us to the flash of Esme's camera. When the bright spot ebbs in my vision I see a couple of patients sitting in the back, and a couple of nurses. The nurses are clapping for us.

About that time I realize Juney is standing in front of me, speechless for once. I hug him and his hands touch me lightly and briefly in return. "Just call me Mommy, Dearest," I whisper.

"Nahhh!," he is saying with a tortured smile as I let him go. "You look like Belle from Beauty and the Beast," he kind of accuses with this awkward look on his face.

I have to laugh right before Edward crushes me in another hug.

Then Dad is tugging on me. His eyes are red. "Come here kiddo," and I am bent over now hugging him in his chair.

"Where's your pants?" I ask, taking note during the hug that he still wears his sweats.

"I couldn't get those damn things on," he says. But he wears the shirt and tie and he has one of those thin and folded white hospital blankets sort of over his legs. "Congratulations, kiddo. You look beautiful."

"Thanks, Dad," I say straightening. I will not cry.

Charlie pumps Edward's arm, then David, then David hugs me, then the minister shakes our hands and Edward reaches inside his jacket pocket and gives the minister an envelope. "Remember, about three sessions," he says to Edward before he leaves.

"Three sessions of pre-marital counseling," Edward says.

"Those guys…always making deals," I say.

And so we leave the chapel arm in arm and go to the conference room where Sue has set up the small buffet meal. It smells like Billy's in here, and while others gather around and fill plates Esme asks us in to the hall and down to the fireplace where she takes some more pictures. Then she gives Edward an envelope. "Carlisle so wanted to be here," she says.

"I know," he answers.

Carlisle is out of town.

She tells him how proud she is, and he says he knows. We go back to the room and he asks me if I'm hungry and I'm not. "Me either," he says.

"Well, everyone thanks for coming. We're going to shove off," Edward says.

"A bag from me is in Edward's truck," Esme whispers.

"What bag?" I say.

"Be good," Edward says to Juney.

"Don't worry about a thing," David says.

"What?" I say but I'm ignored.

Pretty soon I have Charlie's big coat thrown over my shoulders and Edward is pulling me at a break-neck pace to his truck.

"We have one night in the city. The honeymoon suite," he says. People are staring, nurses are laughing, and he swoops me up, right off my feet and I whoop a little because I wasn't expecting it, and he carries me in my floating white retro-cloud out to his truck.


	53. Chapter 53

Look How You Turned Out 52

Scenes from a Honeymoon part one:

Edward carries me from the hospital to the truck, and we get there and he puts me on my feet and says, "Take off the coat, I'll keep you warm…Wife."

Big grin and he is already pulling Charlie's coat from around my shoulders and he wrenches the door open and crams the big coat behind the seat. Then he takes off his suit jacket and says, "Put this on," and I do, and he helps me get on the running board, then in, and he says, "All the way over." And I scoot to the middle of the seat as he slams my door and he rounds the truck in warp speed and gets in the driver's side.

"You're kind of bossy," I say and he laughs and kisses me and whispers, "Mrs. Cullen," and he rubs his nose a couple of times on mine and I hate to tell him but he's probably got a little Bare Minerals on there now.

He starts the truck and cold air blasts out of the vents and Christmas music blares out of the radio and we look at one another and laugh cause we know who that was…Mr. Juney.

He turns down the radio and the air, and smiles at me and puts it in gear and I'm holding onto that arm and I feel the muscles shift as he drives. Our bodies are touching wherever they can.

"Well we did it," he says, eyes on me as much as the road, maybe more.

"Yeah," I say. He'd called me wife. Mrs. Cullen.

"Happy?" he says.

"Ecstatic," I answer.

"Me too." He looks so proud of himself. Then back at me, "You look beautiful, you know," he says.

"This old thing?" and my hand takes a pinch and lifts it and lets it poof.

"You," he says. "Beautiful."

He drives toward home. It's then I pay attention to the bag at my feet. It's a brown paper bag with my name written on it. I lean for it and lift it onto my lap.

"That's from Mom," he says.

I unfold the top and look inside, fingers through tissue paper, I feel the cold fabric and lift it partly out. It's a simple soft white nightgown. It gets to me that she would think of this.

"It's beautiful," I whisper.

He laughs. "You won't need it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You won't need it," he laughs.

I stare at him a minute and he radiates joy and…mischief. It lights his handsomeness like Christmas or something.

I put the gown back in the bag and grab back onto his arm. He looks at me and I look at him and we smile.

111111111111111111111111111111111111111

He takes us home and he's giving me five minutes. He's coming in with me to undo my dress. So we get out of the truck and I already have my door open when he gets there and I'm lifting the dress and his eyes are right there. "Oh, playing nurse?" he says ogling my white legs.

I don't answer, I hike my skirts and get to the door and get it open and he's right behind me, he swings me up in his arms again and carries me over the threshold. I am laughing and he sets me down and I swear the old concussion makes a show because I stagger a little and he catches me. "What's the matter?"

"Little dizzy," I say.

"Whoops. You need to eat," he says, his fingers against my cheek.

I turn and let his jacket slide down my arms and he takes it and folds it over his arm so he can undo the long row of buttons down my back.

"Holy shit," he says really observing the task. He carefully smooths my hair over my shoulder. "Don't ever cut this," he says.

"Have to cancel that appointment with Jessica," I say.

"Not funny," he says and I feel his knuckles against my back as he begins the task. He fumbles a little, but he's patient. "What maniac thought of this," he does mutter once.

Then he's kissing where the buttons are open. "You taste like cream," he says.

I don't have a reply. Maybe I don't need that nightgown.

When he's finished, and he's run his hands between the open sides in back, his hands span my waist. "You're so small I can almost touch my fingers in front." He tries harder. "I can."

I slowly turn and he readjusts his hands and they smooth over my back. I say, "Just a little making out and I have to get upstairs or we'll never get out of…." His lips are on mine and oh yes, I am on my tiptoes and we shift and I fall into a deep lean against him and he's up for it. He pulls me right up and the dress is full enough I can wrap my legs around him, and he makes sure I'm in good position and he holds my ass. It's a kiss only married people should know about, but I already know about it from other times because he doesn't hold anything back when he gets going. Oh god, I want to go straight up the stairs to the bed. Heck with wherever we're going. We only need the Serta and we're good to go, or these stairs will do.

"Bella," he is saying because even though we've stopped kissing I haven't caught up and I haven't moved or opened my eyes. But I slowly do. He has literally put me in a hypnotic state.

"Bella," he says again, soft but proud like always, "go upstairs and change your clothes and pack lightly we're coming back tomorrow." He sets me on my feet before the stairs and he's telling me he's running across the street to change and he'll meet me in the truck in five minutes. Five minutes.

I don't nod or anything. I lift the dress high and walk up the stairs to my room. I am so glad to be me. If this is self-esteem, I'm a geyser.

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111

He isn't kidding about the five minutes. He has the audacity to beep the horn. "Oh fuck you," I say aloud, looking for my shoes. I am going to…you know…fuck him.

All night long.

So I find my shoes and grab my bag and I run downstairs and have to stop at the bottom because I'm dizzy again, all that time looking under my bed for my damn shoes.

In the kitchen I put some of our cookies in a little bag and I look around and it dawns on me, after today I won't live here anymore, and a big block of 'what the hell' threatens, and I run out of there. Once outside I make sure the door is locked then I hurry to the truck. I get in, stow my stuff and he hands me a Twinkie and I hold up the bag of cookies and we laugh. Then he hands me one of Juney's little bottles of milk. "You're so good to us kids," I tell him.

He peels the top off that little glug and hands it to me, and I open the Twinkie and insist he take the first bite. Then I do a little pantomime while I finish the Twinkie, saying 'mmmm,' and looking at his lap and I let some of the whipped cream stay on the corner of my mouth and look in the mirror to verify its location, then point to it, and he takes one last look at the road and he licks it off, and I laugh and palm him through his jeans and he swerves a little and laughs and says, "Shit!"

And it's pretty much that way for the next sixty miles until we cross the river and end up downtown and he pulls underneath a highrise hotel that overlooks the river and a valet comes forward and gets my door and I reach inside and get my stuff wishing I'd put the gown in my overnight case and didn't have to hold a brown paper bag, but it's all good when Edward takes everything from me anyway and we walk close as we can through the glass doors.


	54. Chapter 54

Look How You Turned Out 54

Scenes from a Honeymoon Part 2:

At the desk they tell us congratulations and offer to take our bags and Edward says he's got it. We take the elevator up, and there's people on, and he looks at me and smiles and I smile and as soon as the people are off, he leans over and offers me his lips and I take him up on it…quickly.

We are laughing when we get off, laughing through the snow like a couple of crazies, and he runs down the hall and it makes me laugh more because he's going in the wrong direction, so I have a headstart but I reach the door first but he's got the key so he takes his time, and he's got our stuff but he walks kind of sexy, no kind of, he's sexy and it's a saunter, so I stick out my hip and drag my hand down the center of my body make a u at his favorite place, then end up with my hand on said hip and I figure I'm on some camera somewhere but I'll never see these peeping toms again so deal.

He gets real close then, looking at me like…he's going to nail me real soon, and his bag is slung over his shoulder and mine is in his hand same side, my paperbag crushed under the same arm and other side he just holds the key and a gift bag they gave us at check-in, and I grab the key and swipe it, and open the door, step deep inside and holy hell it's so awesome in here, I have my arms out wide and I spin around, and then I go to the window and look out at all the buzzers-arounders, the ribbon of highway going east and west into forever, the cars moving past like pawns in the game of Life, God's big hand where Juney's usually is, and a barge slugging through the gray river water, bridges in the distance, and a frosty gray sky and the beginnings of more snow and the cold glass on my cheek when he moves up behind me and runs his hands up under my skirt and he goes all the way to the waistband of my tights. "You won't need these," he says, and he pulls them down and I step out of my shoes too, and my legs are bare now, and that isn't all, he's taken everything from the waist down but my skirt. And I turn around and he's still kneeling there. He's got my skirt up and I lean back and yelp when my bare ass hits the glass and it makes me bow forward, except for my shoulders on the window, and my head as he kisses me right there, and moves my legs further apart and he goes in again and I take in a big breath and it shudders out of me and I look down and he's looking up while he's doing it to me and I see the swim in his eyes, the saturation and now I'm hypnotizing him and my hands leave the glass where they've splayed…tree frog like, self-fulfilling prophecy, and I grip his shoulders and dizzy, oh my and my knees give way and he's on his feet and he's carrying me again and he throws me onto the bed and I bounce like three times and it's so soft, so amazing I groan and remember to bring my legs somewhat together, and he dives over me and opens my legs back up so he can be between, and he kisses me again and it's me all over him, so it's like that, not shy about anything, no holding back apparently, so I'll just go with it, why not…he's my husband.

He's my husband.


	55. Chapter 55

Look How You Turned Out 55

Scenes from a honeymoon part 3:

Later we're still on the bed, wrestling around. I'm still wearing my jacket, everything on top, even my skirt, but nothing else. His jeans are open, belt unbuckled. He has his jacket off, even his shoes and socks, but nothing else.

"Want me," he says moving against me as I lay splayed out on the bed. "Want me. Want me."

"I do," I insist, my head going side to side as he builds this tension in me, even his voice.

"Like I want you? All the time, always there in the back of my mind. Like that?" he grinds out holding my chin.

I knock his hand off and my hands move to his arms and I look at him, "It's all I think about. I want you."

He backs off me and stands, zips his pants. "Nah. You need to eat something."

"Let me," I insist rising onto my elbows.

His hand is on his zipper. "Yeah? You done it before? Don't answer that. I don't want to know."

"I haven't!" I yell.

"Oh. Hot button." He puts a knee on the bed.

"You know that button don't you," I smirk letting my knees fall open more than a little.

He lowers the zipper. "You know what to do?"

"Help me. Tell me."

He undoes the button and peels his jeans open, "Don't bite…too much."

I scramble to the edge, sit before him, reach around and grab his ass the way he does mine and I pull him close, and he laughs a little, but it's like he's being strangled for sound, and his hand is gentle on the back of my head and I get my first taste and he whispers, "Baby," and I don't bite…much.


	56. Chapter 56

Look How You Turned Out 56

Scenes from a honeymoon part 4:

"What were you afraid of?" he asks, cutting another piece of his ribeye and holding it in front of my mouth because I got the salmon and we've already eaten that and it was delicious. I take the bite and I'm chewing.

"I wasn't afraid, but…if I turned him down it seemed arrogant."

"So it was pity?" he says concerning my reasons for dating Jacob.

"No. Not pity. Not at all. More like…what the heck."

"What the heck?"

"I mean…why not? You weren't interested and there I was, and he was pretty overwhelming…like a wooer, you know? And I hadn't had that and he seemed…to admire me…this college grad all full of herself…overselling herself."

He laughs, but it's fake. He's chewing the deliciously crusted over and perfectly seasoned piece of beef, but it's everything I'm saying he's really chewing on. "Overselling yourself. I doubt that. Underselling I could believe."

"Edward…you were right…what you said before. I didn't get that job because of all my…preparation. I was…the new toy…I think. I've had trouble admitting it."

"I should never have said that," he said. "I was being a dick. But that damn guy…I should have ripped his smug head off when he showed up."

"No you shouldn't have."

"And he seduced you."

"He was a gentleman. I could have refused. It's just…well it doesn't matter now."

"Yeah? It matters. The whole reason I went out with Jessica…was you dating him. Charlie made sure I knew. Good old Charlie, ball-breaker. The Abbott of my monastic life. Problem was…old Charlie was putting it to Sue so…eff me, you know?"

"Bitter against good old Charlie?"

"Nah. I don't blame him. But it hit me hard…you dating Black. I'm not…why the hell we talking about that mother on our honeymoon?" He pokes a big bite of salad in his mouth.

"You brought it up?" I say in a tiny voice before taking a big drink of water.

He laughs then, his foot moving up my leg. "Get over here. You're too far away," he says, using his napkin then reaching around to pull my chair next to him.

"Cheesecake time?" I ask in the same small voice. I mean to feed it to him.

"Hey, by the window. I'll get the pillows and blanket. You bring the food," he says. "I'm going to eat it off of you."

I have my jacket off now. I'm wearing his discarded flannel shirt over my undershirt and bra. He's in a t-shirt and his jeans and he's taken off his belt.

"Only half," I say.

I have plans for the rest.

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"Your mom says I make you smile," I say between licks. I've smeared cheese cake all over his chest and stomach. He's out of the jeans, to 'keep them clean,' and he's in his knitted black boxers.

I am only in the flannel shirt because it's a little cold by the window, and he loves this on me, not buttoned of course, he says it's the sexiest thing he's ever seen in his life so I may wear it for the next hundred years.

But I'm licking away and he's bunched the pillow so he can watch my every move and I am slowly backing down him, and he reaches under us and pulls his boxers down, kicks them off while steadying me who is basically on all fours over him. Then he says, "Continue," and he grins, his hand is on the small of my back, a place he absolutely loves, he says, has stared at with his tongue hanging out, he says, for years, and now he's touching it, his hand under the shirt cause he wants skin, he says and says. And he backs me right up onto him, and it's invasive, his big fat dick, invasive as hell and I'm a little frozen, but willing, but it happened fast, and I feel myself tensing up and he tells me to go soft and lay on him, and I do, and he lifts his hips to stay in, and he's telling me, "Oh baby you are so fuckin' tight on me, God!"

And the desire in his voice makes me gush wet and hot, I feel it, and my eyes might cross, I don't know, my head is on his chest, my sticky against his, all over, everywhere we touch, and I am speared, filled, and he moves in deeper when he can, and I rise up a little, and it goes in more, and he says, "Soft baby, soft."

And I sit up then, and his eyes are on my breasts, then his hands. "God baby," he whispers.

And he lifts, and I raise a little and he follows and pulls back just a little, and lifts again, and I drop and he says, "Now you, just a little, up and down on me baby. Just a little."

And I move cautiously up, cautiously down, and his face, his teeth, his eyes as he lifts to see where we're joined, and I want to give him something to see, himself going in me, joined, I want him to see, it was always him, always has been him, always will be him, always. Always.


	57. Chapter 57

Look How You Turned Out 57

Scenes from a honeymoon Part 5:

I am on my stomach, on his stomach, his arms around me my feet sticking up behind me. He loves my feet, he says. There's no part he doesn't love, even my smart mouth. He loves my mouth he says.

We are kissing and kissing and there are bubbles all around us and we're drinking champagne and eating strawberries they delivered to our room with our meal. We have kissed for over an hour. He's added hot water to this bath three times. I can slide up and down him in this water and it's perfect…it's, you know…poifect.

"I'd like three," I'm saying. "Like a couple more close together, plus Juney. Three."

"I'd like seven," he says, a big smile, then he kisses me before I can scream, what the hell?

"I love being a dad," he says breaking the kiss just when I was getting in to it. "And I'd love to put one in you…every nine months or so." He laughs then, a big big laugh, and I push him under the water and use my weight to hold him there, and he blows lots of bubbles under there while he kneads my ass, and he's up like nothing and rolls us over so I'm on the bottom and he puts me under, lets me panic for a second then lets me up laughing, then he rolls us again, his hands on my ass and he's holding me against him and I say, "That thing is hard again."

And he laughs. "Talking about babies, locked and loaded Bella, like I told you."

Then he goes crazy on me, licking down my neck and holding me over his face, above the water while he sucks on one nipple then the other. Lord!

He breaks off laughing. "They're going to think I'm killing you in here."

"Well you did nearly drown me," I say, my heavy curtain of hair dripping all over him.

He pulls me back down, kissing me on the mouth now and humming into me. "You are so delicious," he says in that voice that makes me quake, and we kiss some more.


	58. Chapter 58

Look How You Turned Out 58

Scenes from a honeymoon part 6:

"Look at you," he says toweling me off.

We face the mirror, me first, him behind me. I watch his face as he admires me, his arms coming under mine, his big hands on my breasts, my nipples so big and rosy I don't know them, looking their best for him.

He wears a towel low on his hips and I turn to him and where that towel is joined I pull it off. "You won't be needing this," I say.

He's not shy about standing still and letting me look. He's hard, again or still. I've not seen him any other way and I let my hand go there because the bath has made us so familiar, I'm not that shy girl anymore…not now, with his admiration bearing down on me without a break, without apology. I cup his balls and feel how it is down there, their size and weight. His hands go to my arms then and he says, "Yeah."

All those years I had to sneak, always trying to see him, just wanting to look. Now here he is in all his glory and it is glorious. I step closer and he's running his hands all over me while he watches in the mirror. "You're perfect," he says and he gives this satisfied grunt while he gooses both sides of my ass.

I have to laugh because he spread me a little, too. "Are you trying to see in the crack of my ass?" I ask cause Champagne turns me in to a complete whore it seems.

He laughs. He leans a little and his fingers are in-between my cheeks and his finger grazes the back-door, going where man has never dared to trod. I yelp and he laughs and wraps his arms around me.

"You have like any boundaries?" I ask, trying not to laugh at how happy this has made him, touching my asshole.

"You're perfect," he says again, like that gets him out of everything.

I know I'm not perfect, far from it.

"I see you arguing in that head of yours. Just accept it. You're perfect," he says.

He gets close enough to graze my lips. My face is lifted and I'm breathing with him as we stay like this, so close. He picks me up again and stands there holding me. He's looking at it in the mirror, me in his arms.

"Now there's a Christmas card," he says, and we laugh and I kick my feet a little and wave at the naked woman in his naked arms.

"Making merry," I say, cause every card needs a caption.

"Let's do it," he says hurrying to the bed and once more throwing me there.

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After round four, I lean back and put my hands on his face. "When I got to the chapel, I saw you…waiting. And I had this moment…I made vows then."

"When?"

"Looking in the window. I…knew how much I loved you…how much you loved me. I felt it."

Tears come to my eyes now. I'm so happy.

"When you opened those doors," he says, his hands on my face, his thumbs catching my slow roll of tears, "my heart stopped baby. You looked so beautiful. And…sure. Like…a woman. My woman."

It's a silent stare then, me looking into him, him into me.

"I'm so happy," I whisper.

He groans and gathers me against him, my leg over his hip, our heads on the pillow where we can gaze at one another, touch one another. He's mine to explore and I do, each whorl of stubble, the blunt line of his nose, the small knot near its bridge where he tells me he broke it in tenth grade wrestling, the small scar near his hairline, he fell off a wall trying to get away from a German Shepherd, shortly after becoming a cop. I never knew that. Well, he tells me, I don't know everything after all. The lines of his face, his thick dark brows, his soft full head of hair, over and over I comb it through with my fingers. He does the same, his long fingers touching me, every curve and dip, smoothing over me like I'm precious. So much is conveyed in the way he lovingly worries his hands over me again and again.

The only light in the room comes from the glass wall of windows. We've left the drapes open all day, all evening, and the bathroom light we left on from our bath so these soft colors show up like distorted squares and rectangles of yellow or soft gray cast over sections of this room. Much as I love here, I love outside of here too, but I'm not yet ready to let any other reality pierce this sanctuary, this Eden.

It's quiet discovery and lovely and we are so wrapped in one another wrapped in the new and tender promises we've made, the love we've made, time ceases to matter even as it relentlessly leaks away and I imagine what it would be like to view us from the ceiling, or the roof, or the sky, Edward and I in our nest, open, naked, sanguine, equals in love…commitment. Oneness…this is it. No wonder it feels like heaven.


	59. Chapter 59

Look How You Turned Out 59

Scenes from a honeymoon 7:

"What's he say?" I ask trying to read the message for myself. It is Juney's bedtime. He and Edward had arranged ahead of time that Juney would text him goodnight. They do this, Edward says, when Juney is with Esme and he can borrow Granma's phone.

Edward reads the text to himself then he sighs and rests the phone on his bare stomach for a minute.

"Let me see," I say, and he holds it up so I can read it. "Dad," I say aloud, "that cat is back. It looks so cold. Can we please, please, please, please…," I pause here to laugh at the four 'pleases.' The kid has style, "….keep it? Granma says I can't feed it unless you say okay."

"I'm sorry," Edward says. "He's just used to me tucking him in."

"Why would you be sorry about that?" I ask. "Give it here," I say.

"No. You'll tell him to feed it," he says.

We wrestle around a little as he holds the phone high on the other side of him so I have to smash my boobs on his chest and reach for the phone but his arm is so long, forget it, but it's fun trying.

We kiss for a minute and his arm lowers and I grab the phone and roll off of him and he's saying, "You little monster."

I'm already texting and speaking aloud as I write. "Feed that kitty little man you might entertain an angel unaware."

Edward says, "What?"

"He hasn't had a pet for a while," I say. "He can feed it at least, see if it hangs around."

"Bella," he says as I hit send.

"Yeah?"

"He got ringworm once from a stray. He needs to go to bed."

"Well he can feed it. He'll sleep better," I say.

Juney texts back, "So I can feed him?"

"Yes," I text quickly.

"Bella," Edward says taking the phone from me. To my surprise he's trying to be nice but he looks miffed.

"Are you serious Edward?"

"Well…I've always been serious about Juney," he says.

I am looking at him, but he looks away first.

"Are you mad that I said he could feed the cat?"

"No," he says putting the phone on the nightstand and pulling me closer. He's threading his fingers through a piece of my hair and I'm still looking at him and he's not giving me his eyes. When he does look he says, "It's just..we'll talk about things, right?"

"Right," I say already wanting to defend myself.

"I mean…what chance will I have with Juney if you come along and…we just need to talk about things."

"Right," I say. "A united front."

"Right," he says with relief. Did he think I intended to launch a coup?

"He'll just feed the cat," I say like, oh come on.

"And he'll try to pet the cat while it eats," he says. "And he won't wash his hands unless Mom makes him."

I roll away from him and we lay side by side, but not touching. I know I need to apologize or give him some reassurance right now that I won't wreck his dynamic with Juney, but my feelings are hurt and I'm not even sure why. I think he's blowing this out of proportion, but on the other hand…I have no idea how to be a parent. I could ruin Juney. I'm probably already doing it.

I feel pretty foolish. "I'll text him and tell him forget it. He thought it was you anyway," I say.

"It's alright. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It's no big deal, we just need to talk first like we said."

"So I shouldn't have said he could feed the cat. What if he gets ringworm now? It'll be all my fault." me

"He's…he's not going to get ringworm. I over-reacted. I'm just used to calling the shots."

"Me too, though. I'm used to calling the shots," I say. "I'll bet you're already sorry we got married."

He laughs and he's there now, arms and comfort, "Bella, you're taking this too far, baby, I am not regretting our marriage. Let's not re-invent that wheel, not ever."

"Really?" I hate how eager I am for his approval on this, but he's the parent. I'm just the fake-parent. I didn't even think of…worms.

"Bella, all I mean is, let's talk it over. I've had him a long time. I don't want him to play us against each other, and he won't be able to help it if one of us says one thing and the other says something else."

"Of course. I don't mean to come in and topple what you've got going with him. I really don't."

He kisses me. "I know that. Just give me a few weeks to get the hang of it…of sharing…Juney."

"Are you having a hard time thinking of sharing? You know he'll always be yours."

"No. It's not like that at all. Listen…when you came in the chapel today I think he gave you the last crumb of himself," Edward says. "You've not only stolen my heart…but his. It's so powerful…overwhelming for both of us in different ways. We're…at your mercy, baby." He kisses my hand, the ring again.

"I…I'll uphold you, Edward. I promise. I may take you down later…when he can't hear though. I will if you're too…crabby or something. I'm sorry, but I'm an only child too, and Charlie let me have an opinion. You may have noticed," I smile.

He kisses me now. "I've noticed," he says. "I wouldn't change a thing about you, Bella. Not a thing."

But I may need to change a couple of things about me. Then he won't have to worry so much about it.

When I do fall asleep in Edward's arms, I wake more than once, dreaming of Juney and gigantic worms. The first thing I'll do when we get home is make sure he uses bacterial soap.

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I awake a couple of hours later.

"What is it…what's the matter?" Edward asks coming to. I'd tried to get out of bed quietly, but I yelped in there.

"Edward…I'm on fire."

"What kind of fire?" he asks sitting up.

"Here," I say, lightly, and I mean lightly cupping myself between the legs.

"Oh…a bath? That's what you need," he says to me and then himself, "I'll run it. I'll run a bath." He pats my shoulder. "Stay here, baby."

I see the father…the cop. He switches between those personas and my lover so easily. How many times he's been awakened from sleep either by Juney or work, possibly Dad even, to handle dilemma or disaster. He thinks clearly right out of a fog. I can already hear the water running in the bath.

He comes back with a warm washrag. "Here, lay back," he says to me as I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, legs sealed.

I lay back, a little thrown by what I think he's going to do. He has the washrag folded into a pad. "Open your legs baby," he says, and when I do, even that causing a sting, he squeezes that rag just a little and warm water rolls over my folds and it feels like pee, but I don't laugh cause it also stings, but that warm-rag-follow-up really works. "You okay baby?"

"No," I say shaky. "But thanks."

He scoffs. "Thanks? I did this."

"Um…me too," is about all I feel like saying. The rag is helping.

I take over holding the rag so he can check the bath. He stops to put on his boxers then he comes back to me. He scoops me right up and I have to laugh a little. "Edward, I can walk."

"I got you," he says like he just saved me from a building burning instead of a coochie fire.

When he maneuvers into the bathroom, still carrying me, my ass flashing in the mirror, with the rag still trapped over the red baboon part, I hiss with relief as he lowers me into the water. It's hot as eff, but just right. Oh he's good.

"My hair thing," I say, and he disappears for a minute to get one of my bands. He comes in and I lean forward, head on my knees cause he seems to want to take care of me, and his big hands fumble and try to be gentle as he gathers my hair in to a pony tail. Once he does that I reach up and twist it into more of a bun.

"Lay back," he instructs sinking to his knees. I do lay back and he has his hand in the water, comes up with the rag which he squeezes and sets on the broad side of the tub. "Keep your legs open," he says stroking my thigh.

"Thanks," I say again. And then, "Don't…say it," I add so he won't reblame himself. I have this damn temperamental man-hole God gave me. I guess if I do take him in I'm going to pay for it later.

"Is this anywhere near normal?" I ask, disgusted with myself.

He smiles, "It is for us apparently." His arm cuts though the water as he strokes up and down my legs. "It'll get better," he says with all the confidence Google has inspired in him and also a great deal of admiration in his face for my floating tits.

"What if it doesn't? What if I'm some defective…reject?"

He laughs a little. "Don't make me push you under Swan…I mean Mrs. Cullen."

"I'm serious…sort of." I know Jessica didn't have this problem. She was probably able to fuck him ten ways to Sunday. Grrrr. But me? I'm already out of commission after one night. What a loser.

"Hey," he touches me under my chin and makes me look at him, "This will get better. We over did it. That's all. You were a virgin, Bella. We need to let your body catch-up. I was a total pig…an animal," he says but he's laughing a little. "Now buck up, you."

"Did you say, "I want to fuck you?"

"I said buck…you."

"I only heard the 'uck' you, like fuck you up or something," I blink.

"Yuck, yuck…you," he says reminding me briefly of Juney.

"Right now? With my pee-pee on fire?" I say, my chin touching the water as I smile.

He stands and kicks off his boxers. It's hard again and my eyes go right there, of course. It's fascinating, the way it swells and all, but I have to admit I want to swim away, too.

"Don't worry, he'll behave. I just want to hold you," he says as he climbs in behind me.

We spend the rest of those early morning hours dozing in the tub. He gets very good at letting more hot water in and lifting the stopper to prevent overflow, with his feet. He also makes a fabulous waterbed. Edward Cullen is all around amazing.


	60. Chapter 60

Look How You Turned Out 60

You can vote for this story at Rob Attack, a very cool site. It's featured on a poll there. Thanks to the ladies who have nominated it.

Scenes from a Honeymoon 8:

We are tired in the morning. Edward insists on going out crack of dawn to the pharmacy and bringing home a water based feminine product. He's already an authority on every miracle produced to relieve my formerly burning bush. But I am feeling better, so much so that I don't want to put anything down there that it might not like.

He says he would have talked to the pharmacist but she wasn't on duty.

"Wait," I say pulling my sweater over my undershirt. "You would do that?"

"What?"

"Talk to a pharmacist about my…," I wave toward the red river valley.

"Yes," he says like I'm daft.

"No way."

"Why would they care? It's their job to know about medications."

"No. You miss the point. You should care. You should be embarrassed. Right?"

"My wife needs something…what the hell do I care what people think?"

That's pretty sweet, like really sweet, but I want to get at what makes this man tick. "You mean you're not embarrassed to have a vagina conversation with a lady pharmacist," I say. "A vagina rash conversation? Come on. That's like, against your kind…right?"

"Bella," he chides me, "don't over-complicate things. There are too many things. Lots of women have these issues baby."

I sit on the edge of the bed across from him and pull on my socks. "You think I'm immature?"

"Maybe you're just used to being really private about girl things."

"Of course I am. It's normal. Would you buy my Tampax?"

"You use Tampax? That's actually further confirmation your vaginismus isn't stage one…that and the fact that I've been in." Big smile then.

"Yeah…I noticed." I turn more toward him. "You've spent hours on my vagina, haven't you?"

He smirks, "I've taken an interest…."

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So much for making more love the last morning of our honeymoon. He tells me I need to stop apologizing, actually he says he forbids it and I laugh that off.

"Listen to me," he says, holding me on his lap, "this one night with you was like an album of snapshots I'll carry around in my memory for the rest of my life. You feel me?"

"I feel you alright," I say, because I do feel it, the thing poking my hip, LL. I plunk my forehead on his and I'm looking up close at his lips. "But…me too."

"You too?"

"Yeah. I can't improve on the snapshot thing so I'm latching on like a parasite," I say.

He kisses me then. "My little parasite."

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He takes pictures of me all over the room, and I take a few of him. We take one together, and we both have these goofy smiles. I send that one to Esme for Juney with a caption, "See you soon, Precious!"

It's weird to think my mother-in-law will see me clowning with her baby boy knowing what we've been doing…again, but like Edward says in so many words…who cares. I have to get over some of my inhibitions. Well, if I think of my naked self in this room for example, I've gotten over more than a few.

We stare out of our big window, our view, and we're looking at the river and the cars. Edward is behind me, his arms around me, he's bent enough to have his chin on my shoulder, and he's pointing out things he wants to make sure I notice, and I'm doing the same.

I'm stealing myself to say good-bye to this place. Somewhere inside I think I'm ready to move on and try out this marriage thing for real.

But I have an idea. Sort of a going away present for my husband, the collector of rousing snapshots.

"Hey," I say softly, "we started here, you with me at this window."

"Yeah," he says softly kissing my neck and I can see how sex will always be something I can fall into so eagerly with him.

"So…let me do something?"

"Well hell yeah," he says straightening. "You don't have to," he adds cause he's been so, 'I'm satisfied and oh so happy,' about it all.

So I step behind him and say, "Look out the window." And I put each of his hands on the glass. Then I reach around him and undo his belt, unbutton, unzip. He's asked me what I'm doing, but he keeps his hands where I said. I pull his pants down, and his boxers. I make him lift his foot and I take off that boot and pull one leg of clothing off, then tap on the foot for him to place it on the floor. Then I sit on the floor and scoot in front of him. The window is behind me and I kneel before him, and since I'm getting good at this, good enough anyway, he whispers my name as he looks down at me, and I am self-conscious so I tell him to look out the window and he says, "Oh sure."

So I don't look up anymore, but there it is, hard as a brick like usual. I take it in hand and I have to move my head back to get in front of it. I kiss it first and he says my name three times and I can tell he's looking down, and I don't let that distract me, I kiss that fleshy tip, and God it has leakage and I wipe that away some with my thumb and I take a breath and slowly get the whole thing in, girth-wise, not length. Maybe the other end of me is tight-lipped, but this end he's in now, it's wide open.

It feels powerful, me on my knees like a scrub-woman, but his gratitude and pure pleasure, why would I not give him this? I've heard the jokes, and all the talk. In high school and college so common and every-day to do this…like cheap.

But for me, this is almost more personal than the other. If possible. It's love.

I think he's whimpering. Yes, he is. Once he touches my head and I pull off and quickly say, "On the glass," like into the mike, and he obeys like a puppy.

I really get in to it because I want this man to feel like he's flying over the city, he's superman with Lois attached to the gearshift. I'm Lois, by the way.

So he moves a little and I get it, he wants to do what he does before he comes, pump, so I reach one hand around to his perfect ass and I squeeze and I move my head up and down and let my hand fill in the gap because I couldn't get that whole thing in without some kind of sword-swallowing surgical enhancement. But he's saying parts of sentences like, 'thasss it,' or parts of words even like 'ffffff.'

Then it comes and I think, here goes, and I let it happen and it's a little 'run for the hills,' for a minute, but I hold true like a trooper and it's hot and snotty and I don't breathe and I crank up my courage and my throat creaks as I swallow.

I feel him liquefy, not just the obvious, but I feel this pure surrender in every part of him, in his thighs as my hands are on the back of each of those now, in his knees that bend slightly, in the hands that he's removed from the glass to put on my shoulders.

His dick is soft and I release it. He's out and I'm wiping at my mouth like a pirate who just drank a big swig of brew from his flagon. Shiver me timbers.

I look up then and he's taken a step back and he looks down at me, his eyes half closed, this happy loopy look. "Thanks love," he says.

I have to laugh. He's soft and…wonderful.

He goes for one of the towels from off the floor by the bed and he's wiping off the DNA and then stepping into his boxers and jeans and righting everything. I have stayed on the floor, sitting on my feet, hands on my knees. I'm watching him.

Of course he comes to me, pulls me up and then a big hug, and we stay like that, just the hug and silence, the feel of what we are now, what we've created together. He'll buy my Tampax and I'll suck his weiner, and if that's not acceptance, I don't know what the hell is. He owns me. But I so own this man. I'm going to make it my business to see that face he just showed me, that sated, happy face, again and again.

I go in the bathroom and wash up a little. When I come out he's got the bags. He's handsome…God he's beautiful. "Let's get some breakfast and we'll go home," he says.

And yeah, he has a glow. My work here is done.


	61. Chapter 61

Thank you readers, recommenders, reviewers, voters, you make me laugh, you make me smile…you make me write! Now on with the show….

Look How You Turned Out 61

Home again, home again….

We are eating breakfast at IHOP, which is an expunged version of Billy's, a more respectable version, definitely a more commercial version. It is the forgiven Billy's, the made clean and new Billy's, the soulless Billy's? Hmmm, I'm thinking on that when a text comes through. Leah is saying the puppies are ready. Could the timing be better? Really I've been vacillating ever since I heard about this litter of mutts she is hoping to find good homes for. And she's not the only one. At the restaurant there's a bulletin board where you first walk in filled with the latest giveaways and for-sales, and there's always cute canines on that board.

My first thought when Leah approached me was, 'Not me. When I'm ready for a dog I'll get something small, not a Lab mix.'

But she sends me the picture and I have to look and oh my gosh she is holding a black one, a male, sweetest thing, a fat baby, little paws looking like black Q-tips or something and that belly. She tags it, 'Are you my mommy?'

I make a noise. It's kind of loud. "Leah," I say cause she's killing me here. I'm in love-mode anyway, hearts and rainbows, pastels in the dead of winter, that's me. And now this puppy?

"What is it?" Edward asks before carefully sipping his hot coffee. I love the way he sips, that top lip poking out, awwww. There's nothing he does that doesn't distract me from whatever I'm doing.

"What?" he says again.

Oh. I show him my phone.

"Oh shit," he says drawing out the 'oh.'

"Edward. He's perfect. You know he is. No ringworm. And the boy wouldn't be expecting it. He needs a dog. You said he hasn't had a pet in a long time. It will give us all something to start our family with. Something we'll love."

"We love each other," he reminds me with the patience of Pa Ingalls. "That's why we're sitting on the same side of the booth where you've got me trapped between your," he leans closer still, "hot little body and this wall." Okay, not Pa Ingalls. He stares a little long at my boobs and then my mouth which makes me lick my lips because my cappuccino had foam and you never know.

I just keep staring and I bat my eyelashes, not that they're as long as his, but I'm trying to work some magic here. Ever since that final episode in our honeymoon suite, just a couple of hours ago I might add, I've been feeling a bit like a goddess, like a sex goddess, to be exact. It's amazing to think, I can satisfy this man no matter what my pootie does. I can satisfy this man, put that look on his face like I did this morning. He is putty in my…mouth…. It's a matter of creativity. There are options, that's what I'm getting at.

So now, it's like I am woman hear me roar. I mean…my boobs…I'm more aware of them now than when they first made a show in eighth grade. Yes they were late, but they did make a show, more of a matinee than a major four star production, but my nipples are substantial and that seems to get me a round of applause with yours truly at my elbow, staring back at me.

"How am I ever going to say no to you?" he questions, this little smirk on his face as he looks at me. Yeah, that dog is ours.

I laugh, meaning, heck, give me my way all the time then. That's what Dad did and it works out great.

Then the waitress comes and refills his coffee and my water and puts the bill on the table.

"Don't you want a dog?" I say.

"It's just, two years ago when the beagle ran away and I had to go look for it and he insisted on coming with me and we found him in the road…well this boy doesn't need more loss."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Edward...I remember Dad telling me that. But you can't protect him from those kinds of things. I mean…we'll do our best but…give Juney some credit, he's resilient. He shouldn't miss out on having a dog because the last one had an accident."

"I know. I was thinking about it anyway, but he didn't seem to mind not having one."

"I'm texting Leah," I say, my fingers already busy. Then I stop. "You did agree, right?"

"Sure."

"I mean you would tell me if…you can say no…if that's what you mean…right?"

"I think I can manage," he says softly, a big smile as he continues eating.

"Today? Like on the way home we can pick him up? We could go to the store and I'll find out the food and stuff, get all his gear?" My fingers are poised.

"Yeah. Go for it," he says. I can see now, it's timing. Very important. Right now? This man would consent to about anything. He is mellow, yellow, quite rightly.

But here's the thing about me, I make quick decisions, and good ones. That's why I was a good office manager…briefly. My brain is wired for action. It fires quickly. I really don't mind being told no.

But you need to have a damn good reason if I'm in the mood to take a stand.

Except in Chicago, when I started to go against my heart like…almost immediately. I got hired, figured out my first week there how to pay down debt and save thousands of dollars a year for the company, then I got noticed…by Black, who had been on the panel that interviewed me the second time. He'd seemed amused by me or something, but my work got his attention. Then the surprising invitation to a fund raiser, the assurance I'd be helping out a friend-him. Then the make-out session cause girl can't hold her liquor, then the mortification from that, then the flowers, the rumors and gossip, the judgment from a few of my co-workers, females, angry females, then another date and Jacob seeming like my only friend. And very quickly, a fast decision also made with alcohol, I end up in bed with this man. Twice. And both times—disastrous!

I started to pull back. He thought I was playing hard to get. So he insisted I meet his family. I was in so far over my head I was panicking. We went out again, and again. He was actually likeable, and I didn't want to hurt him. But he wanted romance and sex. And it wasn't happening for me for reasons all wrapped up in the man polishing off his pancakes sitting next to me.

Yeah in Chicago, many of my decisions were not so good. They sucked. And life got more and more complicated. So he fired me, and I said I was going home. And he followed—Black did. I think he figured I'd come to my senses if I went back and saw the boy I left behind me, and had him, Jacob Black, to compare him to. Bold move on Jacob's part cause it worked all right, just not in the way he hoped. One look at Edward and I got real.

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Pulling up to Edward's house is exciting. I am holding the puppy who has fallen asleep in the crook of my arm. Edward and I have been going back and forth on who is going to present our little gift. Without me it wouldn't have happened, he said, but he paid for everything, I said, and we fought about that and he said there is no me and mine just ours and I said, "You want my electric curlers then? Okay, I want your badge." And he said, of course that's not what he meant and he said that's the end of it, carry the damn puppy.

It was really a mock-fight but an exchange of vital information occurs. He sees our money as blended. I haven't even thought about it as I don't currently have much, but yeah, blending is good but a quick marriage leads to many other quick things, some which are downright embarrassing.

We bought a big red stocking at the pet store when we stopped there for the doggie's accessories. So I have the pup easily sausaged into that thing, and he seems to love it in there, with his head sticking out and his front paws.

So we pull up to the house. "Wonder how long it will take him to notice," I say stepping out. We've parked in the street because Esme's car is in the driveway.

"Soon find out," Edward says as the front-door is flung open and Juney comes out. "Took you long enough," he says.

His eyes go right to the target, the small black head bobbing along on his red sweater throne on my arm.

"What's that?" he says, then a grin and he's coming toward me.

"That's Bella," Edward says.

"Noo," Juney laughs and points at my little guy, "that."

I mock his 'nooo,' a little. "Just dismiss me," I say.

"Um…there's a dog on your arm," Juney says pointing.

"Oh, this dog?" I carefully maneuver the stockinged bundle into my hands.

Juney is already preparing to take him. "We keeping him?" He's excited.

"We're renting him," Edward says.

"We figure two days, you get attached and we take him back," I add.

He doesn't even hear me. He's taken the bundle into his arms and he's already kissing the puppy's nose. Love at first sight.

Now Esme is in the doorway. "Oh my," she says seeing the squirmer in Juney's arms. "That was quick."

Edward is close and he kisses her cheek. "Now you know why we rushed the wedding," he says.

"Meet Stuart," I say, and I really like Esme cause she gets my reference right away. And so does her son and you know I like him already.

We go inside and right away I notice the good smells. The living room looks…better. She's been cleaning. But somehow the board is replaced with a real window and with the dog excitement we hadn't noticed from the outside.

"How…?" Edward starts to ask.

Esme smiles. "Carlisle knew your insurance man."

"Pulled out the big guns, huh?" Edward says. "On a Sunday, Mom? That's impressive."

So we are grateful and Edward examines the work and it's great.

"Wait a minute…that's a new…." I'm pointing at a coffee table that wasn't there before.

"Merry Christmas from Carlisle and me," she says.

We thank her appropriately. It's really cool, on wheels, an old railway car knock-off, she explains.

We go in the kitchen and she's made lunch and it's also sparkling in here. "Sit down and I'll serve you," she offers.

Edward says, "Mom, no. You've done enough. Sit down with us."

Well she has to be going. Carlisle and she…have a thing. But she'll see us Christmas Eve? And I look at Edward and he says, "Well Charlie has a blow out every year…but with his leg…."

"Oh bring Charlie, then," Esme says. "If he can get around. If you need to stay with him…I understand."

"We'll call you and let you know," Edward says and I feel the hook coming out of my back because I have spent every Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Dad and I don't know what to say until I speak to him.

She takes it well. I can see she's a little thrown, but she's careful not to have a tantrum or anything, and I like her more than ever. But she has Carlisle and I think Dad has Sue, and that's what I have to get figured out—how much he has Sue.

So we thank her again and when she's gone, Edward closes the door and I'm behind him and he turns and scoops me up. I think he likes carrying me places. He growls like a madman and takes me into the bedroom and we both stop there.

"Heh," Edward says noticing the new bedding, and matching drapes. Both a deep red brocade. Nothing I would have picked in a million years but I have to admit, they are show-stoppers.

"Mom," he says again.

"Wow," I say.

"Do you mind?" he asks.

"No," I say. "I…have to get used to it, but your mom is pretty great."

He kisses me then. "If you want something else we'll change this."

"No," I say thinking it's a little 'Queen of England,' but I can get used to it.

Then he throws me on the bed and lands over me and we're laughing, and Juney is there, still holding the puppy, only it's out of the stocking now, on top of it, and he's saying, "He stuck his whole head in his water bowl. He's so funny."

Edward is beside me and he is grinning at Juney, then grinning at me. He kisses me right there and that drives Juney out of the room with a big sound of disgust. "Get used to it kid," he calls after him, then he flattens me against the royal red and kisses the daylights out of me. When he lifts his face he says, "Let's eat."


	62. Chapter 62

Optional suggestion: Listen to, I'm Gone, (reprised from Shawn Colvin) by SKYE

as you read.

Look How You Turned Out 62

Edward has to return to work at four Monday evening. I watch him change into his uniform and it's like getting to look backstage at a theatre, or underground at Disney World, or behind the altar of a Catholic church, looking into the magic…only sexual…sensual…his hands and fingers, he's proud while I watch…he knows I want him. He's my husband.

And he wants me…only me…excluding all the rest. I have stood with him in that dress, promised him everything. Meant it, didn't go lightly, went in trembling…until I wasn't.

So I lean on our bedroom wall, my hands behind, nailed to the wall by my own ass. He lets me watch him tuck and buckle, and strap on and zip up, each movement, each graceful move, and sound...he keeps looking at me and he seems pretty amused, happy.

I move toward him slow where he stands by the dresser, tucking his wallet into his back pocket, but his eyes, crisp in this dim light, and that grin….

I get close and move my hand over him and cup him there and tell him there's another weapon in the front of his pants. Feels like a forty-five. A pistol…or a swordfish. Is he glad to see me?

"Yeah? Yeah," he says taking me to the wall, and we're trying to be quiet because we have a son, well he does. I just call him Juney. My Juney.

He is pinning my wrists and kissing me and he's going to be sorry I think because it's going to be so hard to walk away…this hard. But he has to go and he's pretty duty bound.

"Tonight…I want your skin on me," he says stepping back and buttoning his cuffs.

"Want some fava beans with that?" I say, but really, I'll be waiting.

He grabs me, close so close, his hand on me where mine was on him. "I don't need anything but this," he says.

"Sounds like something I might be interested in," I say, and I have to clear my throat and that makes him laugh.

We kiss and kiss and kiss. Lord. When he opens the bedroom door, I need a minute to snap out of it.

So a few minutes later, he's at the table with Juney and a bowl of Cheerios and Juney is talking about how he helped Grandma after the wedding and they put the stockings up, and Esme got one for Bella, Juney says.

I hadn't noticed that. Esme thinks of everything because I can't imagine not hanging my old one next to Charlie's. At least not this first year. I couldn't leave him over there staring at that lonely moth-eaten one I made him in fifth grade that says, "Dad," in red glitter.

So I take that bowl of Cheerios and dump it in the sink and he's saying, "Hey," and Juney is laughing cause no one defies Edward and gets away with it…well not even me…but I don't want to. And I heat up the rest of Esme's food for Edward and he says I didn't have to do that, but I can see he likes me to take care of him and I want to do that too.

Then I have to sit on his leg while he eats, one arm around my waist, the other hand shoveling Esme's pasta and Juney, holding that nameless dog says, "Are you guys gonna be doing this all the time?"

And Edward says, "Yep, all the time," and he kisses me with his mouth full and me and Juney say, "Ew." But I don't mean it.

111111111111111111

Once Edward is gone Juney and I drive over to Billy's to work out my shifts with Sue. He has his puppy under his shirt and he's wearing a heavy jacket too. He's been off today for a teacher in-service but he has to finish the week in school. Then he'll be on Christmas vacation.

Now he sits at the counter and Sue oohs and aahs over the puppy and tells him to zip his jacket so none of the customers give her grief about the dog. Like they would. Juney then eats a sizeable portion of the special-chicken and noodles and well, so do I.

Sue wraps one up for me to take to Charlie. She teases me some about my wild wedding night, saying I have that special glow. She's assuming, but I blush like a freak and she thinks she knows the deal, but I could be the one to make her blush. The things I've done now, the things I plan to do…Lord.

I sign up for my twenty hours. I look over the decorating attempt, feel a little perplexed at the haphazard way Coy has strung lights over the windows. I tell myself it's not important. Not right now anyway. I can do my thing with Charlie's tree…which I still need to fix up.

We leave Sue's with a foil wrapped plate and pie for Charlie. Juney has two big cookies in his hand and a puppy under his clothes.

At the hospital we plan to smuggle in the newest member of our family so Charlie can meet him. Juney keeps his arms folded over the prize.

"Looks like you have a stomach ache," I say.

And as we cross the lot I tease Juney about the pup's name. He says he already knows the pup's name but he doesn't want to say.

"Is it Beverly?" I ask.

"No," he says, but he's being mysterious.

"What do you think? Blackie?"

"No," he says, holding the bundle under his coat.

"Rover?" I guess.

"No," he says again trying not to smile.

He won't tell me and I can't make him crack all the way to Charlie's room.

So we're carrying on a little bit as we enter good old three-twenty-nine.

There's a woman sitting by Dad's recliner. She's on the vinyl couch next to his chair. There is the residue of an intense conversation in this room. They are both looking at me like they've been caught.

If I were a bird dog I'd be in full-on point right now, I'm that uncomfortable. I'm thinking—'no way. No way.'

Charlie looks at me and I hate what I see there, a mixture of apology and his own difficulties. I've seen it before and I don't know when or where.

She stands right up. She's attractive, thin, a smile that doesn't reach the sadness in her eyes. Her eyes. I know them.

She has brown hair cut in a bob. Her clothes are form fitting, but she's so thin she looks modest. And I can tell she's a smoker. I'm never wrong about that.

Through the hot buzz in my ears I hear the words, Renee and mother. That's really all that gets through.

Juney has rounded the bed, gone close to Charlie, but he just stands there looking at the woman, at me.

"Hello Isabella," she says.

I don't mean to not answer. I'm just…the puppy is crying and that gets my attention. Juney opens his coat. Renee comments on the puppy, but her eyes, and Charlie's eyes are on me.

What am I supposed to say?

She just gets to, show up?

Charlie hasn't taught me to hate her. So I don't hate her.

But I don't know her.

Charlie introduces her to Juney and he's polite. Juney is still holding the puppy, but his eyes search mine. The motherless.

She is oohing over Juney cause he's adorable and she sees that. "Is he your son, Bella?" She's not sure how Juney and I are connected.

That stabs me some…how much she doesn't know. And right away I'm on the spot.

"He's my husband's son," I say. I'm not ready to tell her about me.

Juney's face falls a little. Shit. "He's my husband's biological son," I correct. "But yes…he's mine too," I say this right to Juney but he's not letting me off so easily. I see that.

Now she's apologizing but I can barely keep up. I don't want to.

She didn't plan to just spring herself on me. She'd gone to the station and learned Charlie was here. She came to the hospital to speak first with Charlie. He hadn't really given his permission. He wanted to talk to me about it first…in person. Then he would let Renee know if I wanted to meet her or not.

But I just showed up.

"And you're married," she says and I realize she has my voice…well I have hers. There is the suggestion of tears in her eyes. I look away. Apparently Charlie has told her my life story.

"Isabella, I'll go. I'm sorry to have blindsided you like this. If you want to see me, Charlie knows how to get ahold of me at the Uptown Motel. But if it's too much, I understand." She's picking up her purse, making her way around the bed, keeping distance as she passes me. "You're a lovely young woman. Congratulations on your marriage."

I smell her soap. She has lines around her mouth. She held me. There was a song…a dance…a book…a shared ice cream cone…shadow puppets on the wall…a white washrag on my back…long strokes of the brush down my hair…and a full skirt with roses. There was a time…time was….

I nod a little. We're the same height. She goes out then.

I carry my memories in a purse inside, and it's zipped closed and it's around my neck, and it's more than hers, it's mine…what I know…carved in me small…that's my mama…all of those things…but this woman now…this woman can go on out. I don't know her.

"Come here," Charlie says. I go to the couch and plop down where it is still warm from her ass. I think of moving, but I really can't.

"Bella are you alright honey? I know it's a terrible shock her just showing up," Charlie says.

"I just…wasn't ready," I say.

"It's alright. I'll make sure she goes away."

I laugh a little. "What?" It just sounds wrong. Like Tony Soprano. "It's alright, Dad."

"Is it?" he says like he doesn't believe me.

"Juney…she caught me off-guard. I haven't even had a chance…," I say.

"I know," Juney says like shut-up.

"With you…all I think is 'family,'" I say to him. "It's always been like that."

"I know," Juney says again more forcefully.

"Hey now," Charlie says to him.

"I said it strong like that because she…doesn't know. She's my mom…and she doesn't even know if you're my son," I tell him like he'll understand.

Juney turns away from me.

Charlie signals I should let it rest.

"Well how'd you take it?" I ask Dad.

He is shaking his head. "Hell if I know. Good thing I'm sitting down I guess. Never a word all these years and I'm sitting here…."

"You knew she was alright though," I say. I know he kept in touch with that one sister. Christmas card every year.

"I never asked about her," he said. "Never did."

Well there it is. I could go after her, but I could do a lot of things I'm not about to do.

"Let's see this rascal," Dad says reaching to pet the dog.

"Know what I named him?" Juney says.

"Blackie?" he says.

We have a laugh then. "That's what she said," Juney says. So I'm 'she' now.

"Well 'she' was your age when we had Blackie," Dad says.

"A dog like this?" Juney.

"A little bit maybe," Charlie says.

"Now you are making me sad," I say.

"What happened to him?" Juney asks.

Dad and I look at one another. "Lived to a good old age and went to sleep," Charlie says. Yeah right.

"Well…I'm not naming him Blackie," Juney says.

"Oh no?" Charlie says idly, smiling sadly at me. It's catching up to him, seeing her.

"I'm calling him Scrapper." Juney.

"Scrapper?" Charlie says. I just stay quiet for once. Well I feel quiet now.

Charlie does a little rap using the word 'bark' and slapping the arms of his recliner.

Juney is laughing and he says, "Stop. I said Scrapper."

Charlie holds Scrapper then. He's asking how we got him in here. Juney tells him we can take Scrapper anywhere as long as he wears his coat.

I say, "Hey Dad I've got Sue's chicken and noodles in the car. Want some?"

"Oh," he says, "you're lying. I am so sick of this food. Some chicken and noodles, I believe that might knit my bones."

I am happy to take a walk to get the food. I smile fondly as I pass the chapel. I think I audibly sigh, and lo and behold there's Renee coming out of the restroom.

We look at one another, and there's no way in hell I can ignore her.

She waves. It's surreal. I came from this woman.

"Charlie said you were married here last Sunday," she says.

Damn that Charlie giving away the sweetest details of my life just because he's knocked on his ass.

"Yeah," I say.

We push through the outside doors and a cold wind cuts us.

"I don't blame you if you aren't glad to see me," she says.

"It's weird you showing up," I say.

"I know. I don't have a right. I have no right."

What am I supposed to say here?

"Where…do you live?" I say.

"In a small town," she laughs a little, like that's some big joke. "Ran away from this one…to another one in Tennessee."

If I gave a damn, that would hurt. But I am effing-curious.

"You have a right to hate me," she says and it's very off-putting. I don't need her permission to feel anything. She doesn't know me, doesn't know one thing about my feelings.

"Charlie…he's been a good dad," I say cause I do want to say that.

"I knew he would be."

"Oh yeah?" I don't like what she's saying, like she knew anything but what she wanted to do.

She is running a little to catch me because I can move if I want to. "Isabella, please don't run off."

I stop. Who runs off? Not me.

"I…was recently widowed," she says.

Four, three, two, one. "I'm sorry."

She nods, looks down, wipes her nose. "Yeah…married seven years. He um…aneurism last October. He was…he was good."

I want to say he was not as good as Charlie.

"You don't have to feel bad. All I needed was Dad," I say.

Her breath whooshes a little on that one. I didn't intend to hurt her, and I'm not even sure where such a declaration came from. But I'm angry now.

"You just passing through?" I say, worried she's come to hurt him again.

"No," she says. "I just wanted to tell him how sorry I was, Isabella."

"Just Bella."

"Okay."

"Did you?"

"In…so many words."

"Cause he's got a girlfriend."

"I can imagine. He's always been good."

"I'm glad you know."

"Don't worry, Is…Bella. I didn't come along to cause trouble. I just wanted to see him. Tell him what I said. See you if I could. Just see how you turned out. Forgive me sweetheart. I know it's selfish."

I want to say, 'that never stopped you did it…selfish?' But I don't say that. I'm already running out of steam.

I still don't trust her for anything. But…she's kind of pitiable. "You have other family?" I say. "You have kids?"

She smiles a little. "Just…you."

"That's probably good…right?" I don't say it mean, just stating a fact.

But her smile is sad. And I know then, I don't want to hurt her.

1111111111111111111111111111

Later, in bed, in a nest of red brocade, he has my skin, he has all of me. I lay beside him, half on, half off, our arms and legs as entwined as our hearts.

He wants me closer and I want to be closer. It's here where it all makes sense…by not having to make sense at all.

I have told him, in a voice small but strong. He's taken it seriously, is worried I'll be hurt. He puts his pain on me, I know, and sees Renee, through all that glass, Angela, Juney, little me left behind, and Charlie, and himself. He's my protector, he wants to fix, he knows he can't, but he'd like a shot, he'd always like a shot.

What does she want? What does she expect? How can she ask? How can she be? –he says all this.

Is there a way to make sure she never slips through again, her kind never slips through? That's what he's asking.

And oh, I take him in that night. My body can't say no. I take him in, all the way in, and he falls on me, and I can hold him then in this way, dampness on our skin and we are sealed. "I…love you Bella," he says to me in this aftermath, this undefiled moment.

"I know," I say. And here's what I know…she couldn't give me what she didn't have.

And I'm not her. 


	63. Chapter 63

Look How You Turned Out 63

I leave Edward and he mumbles, he doesn't want me to go but assumes it's nature calling and slurs, "Hurry back," as he rolls onto his stomach, and I look at him for a moment, his hair against the pillow. God I love.

So I go in the bathroom and wash my face and hands, then I dress quietly in my underclothes and shorts and shirt and I tiptoe out of there down the hall to Juney's room.

He doesn't like to close his door, feels too cut off from Edward, Edward says, not Juney, but don't I know that, don't I know most everything about this little turd? So I push his door a little, and I see him easy in the nightlight, and the flashlight under his sheets, left on, and the puppy that's supposed to be in his crate is sleeping on him, now wiggling awake to tell me hello, and that wakes Juney up enough that he rolls on his stomach much like I just watched his father do.

I kneel beside his bed, my hands open to the dog and I guess it is a prayer. He's been given to me for a time, this kid named Juney. Deserve it? No one deserves such a gift, such a responsibility, not really, but then it's not about perfection, it's about willingness and effort and sincerity…and humility. It's humbling.

He's looking at me. Just like that he's looking at me.

"What are you doing?" he says deadpan, the pup licking his face, right in the kisser, and he laughs and sits up and holds the pup.

I get off my knees and sit on the edge of his bed. "I um…couldn't go to sleep without talking to you first," I say.

"What?" he says with dread.

"It's about my mom showing up that way," I say.

"What about her?"

"Well…the son thing."

He closes his eyes. "Shut up," he says, the puppy wiggling in his hands.

"Let me say something…Juney."

He opens his eyes. He's looking at me, and there's dread and hurt.

I swallow. "I love you."

He groans.

"Listen to me. I'm not like my mom. I'm nothing like her."

He just stares at me, his cheek getting licked.

"You…and your dad," I cross my heart, hold up my fingers in the Girl Scout pledge. "For life.

"You and your dad…Juney…I want to try and be a good mom…but I hadn't asked if it was okay to call you…. I didn't know how you would feel. I thought…it has to happen on its own, in time."

"What are you talking about?"

"Me…being your mom. And you…being my son."

"Go away," he says, his eyebrows crinkling.

I'm making it worse. "I'm not. That's what I'm trying to say."

He looks at me for a minute. "You're weird."

"I know," I agree. "It will take time, right?"

"So what are we?" he asks. "At school…?"

"Friends for sure," I say. "But just say step-mom. It's the truth."

"Then you say step-son, right?"

"Well can I? It's okay?"

"Grampa Charlie already talked to me," he says. "When you went out to the car for his food."

"What did he say?"

"He said I hit the lottery. He said you did too."

I laugh but tears come and I sniff. "Well…he's a little biased about me, but I did get a two-fer with you and your dad."

"What's a two-fer?" he asks and the puppy attacks him and he laughs.

"Two for one," I say.

"So…okay," he says trying to contain the wiggler.

"Here," I say. I hold Scrapper on his back and scratch his stomach.

"Are you gonna have a baby or something?"

"What?"

"You're holding him like a baby."

We're quiet for a minute, watching Scrapper hold very still, his mouth open. "Sometime it could happen," I say without looking at him at first.

He groans, but he's smiling. "Brats around here just like you," he says.

"Or like you," I say.

I tickle him a little, but he blocks me with his elbow and says, "Don't. They're not getting in my room."

"They? You think I'm gonna do it more than once?" I ask.

He laughs. "Probably. There's a kid at school with seven. They break all his stuff."

"Zombie plague. Prepare yourself."

He groans. "I'm gonna live with Granma."

"Oh no you're not," I say yanking the pillow from under his head. "You're mine, you're mine, admit it."

The puppy is overwhelmed. It's climbing on him and he scoops it up and speaks softly to it.

Point made I guess. I take the flashlight he's left on and click it off and put it on his nightstand as I get on my feet.

"Tomorrow after school we're going shopping for your dad. So have some ideas," I say.

"I know what he wants," he tells me grinning. "X-box 360."

"Oh yeah? Imagine that," I say.

He's smiling big as I tuck him and his dog under the covers.

When I get back in our room Edward is coming out of the bathroom. "Nice save," I say.

"What?" he says. I guess he wants to pretend he wasn't listening outside Juney's door.

"You're getting X-box 360," I say.

"I better not be," he says grabbing me and falling onto the bed.

We lay there a minute, breathing.

"He loves you too," Edward says, a soft kiss on my hair. "How could he not my Bella?"

We're quiet for a while, and I think we'll go to sleep now, I'm sore, but I can handle it, I think, like I have armor against life and even my vagina must comply…for a while.

"What do you want for Christmas," he asks.

I have everything I want. "A Kitchen-Aid," I say. I know it's expensive, but I'm being honest.

"A red one," I say. "And I like that glass bowl."

"Serious?" he asks up on his elbow.

"Yeah," I tell him. I'm serious.

He makes a humpf sound, drops beside me and we get as close as possible.

Yeah, I'm a million surprises. Mostly to myself.


	64. Chapter 64

Look How You Turned Out 64

In the morning, Edward plans to drive Juney to school so I can come along and see his classroom and meet his homeroom teacher.

I am happy to do this, excited even. I take extra time to braid my hair and wear my nice boots. I have to go to work at eleven to get ready for the lunch crowd, and Edward is bringing Juney to me after school before he goes to work. We'll eat at the diner again and Juney will have to do his homework, then we'll go see Charlie. And we have some shopping to do.

My life…my beautiful life. My rich…life.

So I'm in the bathroom at the mirror when he knocks. I'm doing my version of make-up—mascara and lip gloss. My moisturizer is over at Charlie's. Well, I have to tackle that place pretty soon, get his tree ready, clean out the frig, move my stuff over here.

I open the door expecting Edward to tell me it's time to leave.

He smiles at me and…I'm smiling at him. He's in jeans and a sweater, a black sweater, sleeves pushed up his forearms and it shreds my brain. He is so handsome I just want to drop everything and admire…him.

"Bella?" he says. "I brought you a coffee. You like this vanilla kind, right?"

"Yes," I say. "Thank-you Mr. Handsome Sweater. I don't usually drink in the potty room though."

He laughs, is looking at the cup. "Well…I drink my shower water sometimes…," then he looks up, "…Mrs. Beautiful…Blouse."

I picture him in the shower, his mouth open filling with water, spitting that all down my back as he...but the black sweater can't be worn in the shower so my pictures are conflicted.

"Bella?"

"The dresser will do. And thanks again."

"Charlie told me I should do this every morning," he says taking the few steps to the dresser to set the cup there. "Yeah."

"He did? Why would he tell you that?" I'm like…astonished.

"He texted me this morning…my duties at the station, like I need him to tell me. Then later he texts, 'Bella likes that fruity coffee. Vanilla. You should bring her one. Every morning.'" He digs his phone out of his pocket and scrolls a little, then hands me the phone so I can read the text.

"My dad…needs to get a life. He's like cray-cray sitting in his backless gown being Yenta." I hand the phone back like it's a hot potato.

Edward laughs. "Yeah…and about last night…if Juney ever gets out of line…don't take that. If you can't say anything then tell me. I want him to be respectful, you know?"

"He is respectful," I say.

"I couldn't say anything because…."

"You were eavesdropping," I finish.

"Yeah, but…he knows better than to tell you to shut-up. And there was something else…just don't let him…."

"He's fine. Don't talk to him about it," I say to him.

He gathers me against him, big breath, big sigh. "My Bella…."

"We're working it out. You have to let us," I say and I dance a little against him and he moves easy with me, we're swaying side to side, just love, just love.

"I don't want him to get in this habit of talking to you like…a grade school kid," he says with his cheek against my hair.

"Maybe that's what I am…inside."

"You know what I mean, Bella." His hands slide down my back. He likes to do that. It brings me hard against him. I anticipate the ass-squeeze…and there it is.

"This sweater makes me…hmmm, feel a little older," I say rubbing my hand on his back.

"After we take Juney…," he turns us toward the disheveled bed that would already fail the black-light test.

"Are you out of your mind? I've got so much to do! You're going to help me move in here."

"Oh. I like that," he says. "But we've got some shopping to do, right?" We're still dancing.

"You definitely do," I say. "But…yeah. We have to divide and conquer. I have to work some."

Now he stops so we stop. He pulls back to look at me so I comply.

"You don't need money. What do you need, baby?" Now he's digging for his wallet. "I'm not big on credit cards."

"Well I kind of am."

"I prefer to use cash. It hurts more to spend real money. You tend to keep track."

"You're so cute," I say, kissing his open lips. "A credit card is how you keep track. It's called a statement…available on line. You pay it off end of the month so you can use the card for free."

"But you still don't feel the pain of spending like you do with cash."

"Dad," Juney calls from the kitchen, "we're going to be late."

"To be continued," he says shoving some bills in my hand.

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"And this is Mrs. Cullen," Edward says, like she and Juney's class should all give me a round of applause or something.

Juney's teacher, Mrs. Fisk, is trying very hard not to be dazzled. Not by me, the eclipse, but by him, the sun, also known as my husband the acting sheriff of our town. I suppose it will go with the job of 'wife,' now, the constant tolerance of other women being jolted out of their hum-drum expectations by the sight of my man.

The black sweater shows between the sides of his leather jacket. Yes, the merciful side of me can hardly blame any female for the primal stutter he inspires deep within her hallowed halls.

If she collects herself quickly, I can respect her shock, her struggle. But if she persists, bitch is going down.

This woman, Mrs. Fisk, seems determined to remember herself, the wedding ring on her finger, her calling as teacher, her mother, her father, perhaps her priest. Anyway, she's obviously seen Edward before, come to terms with the fact that he exists, so she avoids looking straight at him, looking instead at the nearest kid and yelling at 'Bobby,' to get in his seat.

She clears her throat and compliments Juney on being a good student. She seems like a nice person (unless you're Bobby). She remembers to explain to me how homework is posted and where to speak with her on-line. She gives me a copy of the school's policy on administering medications and some of the paperwork left over from the beginning of the year when I was in Chicago being wayward. Now I clear my throat.

Juney is trying hard not to be proud of us, his parents. Parents? It's such a freak out for me. I am a parent. It's just…ridiculous. I'm happy and mutually proud of him and I feel like a total fake.

I keep looking at Juney. I pat my stomach like I'm checking that area on him for the puppy. He smiles and looks away from me. I hope he doesn't think I'm trying to tell him I'm pregnant because I'm not.

I'm really not about to begin the zombie invasion.

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Edward has backed his truck as close to Charlie's front door as he can and we've filled it with my stuff. Some I've bagged for Goodwill and he'll dump that off later on the way to work, he says. I lived quite well in Chicago without it, so why resurrect it now? That's what I tell him…so I can tell myself. Clutter is unmade decisions and I am a decision-making machine.

But I do not want to strip this room too much, make it too stark when Charlie can eventually stump his way up here again. Maybe by then it will seem old hat that I'm a married woman. To him and to me.

But I bag the room and as far as the furniture, I've taken my cedar chest, of course, my vanity table. I've taken my desk, and my Starry Night print. And my luggage, not that it matches. Some of it was Charlie's gift to me at high school graduation. Now it's all packed for the biggest journey of my life—across the street. Trophies in a box, yearbooks and awards are shoved under the bed to be dealt with some other time. I can't imagine bringing them to Edward's, can't imagine pitching them. They just belong here, in Charlie's house, under his roof. That's all I know for now.

So I'm all moved in by the time I have to leave for work. Edward has filled half his closet with my things. There's been enough room because neither of us are what you'd call clothes hogs. He cleans a few odds and ends out of some of the drawers, and there's plenty of those. He's right there when I unpack my underwear, my bras. He's interested in them, of course, apparently happy to have such taking up residence in his room. Shit, I see the set Jacob bought for my disastrous second night with him. I hadn't thought about it, not when I packed. Of course he picks this out.

"Hey…what's this? Doesn't look like something you'd buy."

"Well it wasn't from Charlie," I joke in this ridiculous voice.

"Looks like something I'd buy," he says, smiling big.

I grab it from him…almost. He holds the bra and panty set out of my reach. "I thought they were pretty, but they're not comfortable," I say.

"Guess not. Not much to…them," he says blocking me and holding the things in his big hands while he takes a closer look. "Damn."

"Okay, you're perving now," I say trying not to panic. I don't know why. They can't talk.

"Special occasion?" he asks. He's still smiling, but not really, and they're crushed in his closed hands.

I'm through talking. I'm holding my hand out…like gimmee.

He takes a last look and turns them over. I proceed to rip them in to even smaller pieces and throw them in the bathroom trashcan.

"What was that about?" he asks.

"I don't like them and I know you were going to want me to wear them for you."

"Waste of time," he says folding his arms. "They'd just be in my way."

We have a bit of a stare off then.

He doesn't say anything about it. He could. I haven't been very cool and he's no fool.

"I've been thinking about the mixer," I say.

"What about it?"

"Take it to the station and let her come for it. You don't have to be there."

"That what you want?"

"Yes."

"Done."

We end up on the bed. What I want…is him. I always want him. And it seems mutual. It is.

We are kissing and disrobing. Just the essentials. Pants have to get out of the way but I tell him to leave the sweater. My blouse is pulled up…and my undershirt, my bra is pulled down and he's saying hello…there and I am so sensitive it's just…enlightening to enjoy every minute of his attention. Then he kisses my thighs, then between, and it's almost too much, too intense. I can be as loud as I want now, and I yell out. It feels so good…and so good. Where I was sore…he has healing spit. I try to tell him, but I can't speak so I shake my head. I love to do that, just go wild. It feels so wonderful, the build up and just when I think it's outrunning me I'm coming apart, I'm gasping, and I ride it out, his…utterly his…utterly given…utterly spent.

I return this, going down on him, taking him to the place where I've been—happy happy town, unafraid this time, only wanting to please him, and knowing such pleasure as his body convulses. He's in bliss. He says my name in such a way, his hands knead my skin, his lips...his lips…and mine on him…like Folgers.

What matters the most to me as we bask here in this soft place-Him. Me. Ours—Juney, Charlie. Two houses and a road between. This place he protects and I serve—Forks. His mother.

And mine? I wonder if she's still around. Did she ever get here…with Charlie? Did she ever feel anything close to what I know now, what I share now with Edward? Did she know this sweet place, and if she did…if she ever did…how did she go away?

Only she can tell me. How badly do I need to know?

I need only one thing, only two, only three…and maybe four. I do not need these answers.

But I may want them.

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"Call in," he says. "What's she going to do, fire you? It's Sue. I'll call her."

"No you won't. Come with me," I say, kissing him madly.

"Oh," he says. "You know what you do to me? I'll think about this all day, all night at work."

"Come with me, it's going to be yours anyway."

"Going to be," he says, his hand right there in the place all healed now from his saliva.

"Is. It is. It is," I say, kissing him all over his face, and when he dips his head lower to give me more access, I even kiss his hair.

He means my lady parts and I mean the diner and my lady parts…all his.

"Come with me."

"I'm not sitting there…," he says. "I have shit to do."

"Come after. I'll bring you lunch and we can smile at each other."

"Across the fuckin' room," he says like that's a rip.

"And I'll shake my ass for you."

"Hmmm stay here and do that." His hands are right there now, and kiss, kiss.

I'm all peace and love by the time I make it to Billy's.

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I'm all peace and love and merry Christmas as I take orders and bring people the ample plates of food Sue and her crew of one put out. And around two Edward enters and he looks like he's been up to something. Maybe it's the pink mixer…or maybe he went Christmas shopping.

We do smile at one another and I lead him to a booth, a little extra joy in my hips and he follows and whispers, "Pretty cute ass," and I ask what can I get you, and he doesn't answer right away, just looks at me, lips deliciously sealed and so I suggest the special and he says he's had that. It's his favorite.

Snap, crackle and pop. That's how it is between us. I'm smiling big as I put in his order.

"Someone's in a really good mood," Sue says at the window.

"Yeah, this is for Edward."

"Oh," Sue says, drawing out the oh.

I take him his drink and he looks around quick and grabs my wrist. "I hear they've got a closet…."

"Yeah, I went there with this boy once…."

"Boy? What happened? He touch you…."

He's looking at me and I'm smiling. He lets go of my wrist and sits back.

"I can't talk about it," I whisper messing with his silverware. "Too dirty. Later…."

He takes a long drink. I try to remember I have other customers. Someone comes over to speak with Edward. It's that way for him, for Charlie. If they want down time they have to leave town. Charlie stuck in that hospital room, it's one long parade of his cronies, old guys who help him keep law and order. In their dreams.

So I am humming along, doing my job. I've just laid Edward's chicken and dumplings before him when she comes in.

She sits in my section. It can't be on purpose, she wouldn't know, but what is she doing here…in Forks…still? The Uptown Motel, she said. I pictured her gone, having realized at the hospital it was too awkward. I tried not to picture her at all.

I think of handing her off, but it would be weird and why should I do that. So I look at Edward and he's trying to eat while two guys bend his ear, and I think this is stupid, so I walk to her table and say hello, I thought you were gone, and she says please sit for just a moment.

"Maybe I can do you some good," she says.

She's been back to the hospital to see Charlie, to say good-bye. She's leaving now. She just needed to come back.

"What are you looking for?" I say.

She is shaking her head. "Isabella, Charlie told me how it was, how you did it…you went to college, you finished, you had a great job in Chicago. He said you turned down a proposal from a wealthy, successful big-shot because this was where you belonged. Everything I wanted…you had…briefly. And you came back here."

Now she seems open to my response. Like I should explain myself? I don't know what this is about.

"Dad says too much sometimes," I say.

"I asked. Isabella, I left because I had this buried feeling…here. You came back because you wanted the very thing I ran from."

"Love," I say simply.

She stares at me so long I think she's had a stroke.

Finally, "It's a little more complicated," she whispers.

"I know what you want to say. You want to say that you hope I'm not giving up a great future to try and come back here and please Dad, make it up to him by marrying a local boy, one made in his image."

"Are you?"

"I realize we're different…two very different people. We share DNA," …but not hearts. "History," …but no present…no future. "We're related," …but we're not family.

"You ran away from love Renee…and I ran to it."

Now she's looking at the table, at her hand splayed there. At the dead guy's ring. I am not being vengeful or unkind. Apparently love was bigger than her, and it ambushed her in Tennessee. But he's gone now and she's come here to give me her perspective and I'd like to believe she wanted to hear mine.

It wasn't me…it wasn't Charlie.

My mother ran from love.

I look across the room to where Edward has three of them now, one guy seated across from him, two more standing. But his eyes are on me. He's watching, he's figured it out, he knows what this is, who she is. He's not coming over, but he will. He's waiting.

I smile at him. I smile at love.

"Is that him?" she asks, following the beam. "The son…they're a beautiful pair."

"Yes," I say. "That's my beautiful husband Edward."

I ran toward them Mom. Edward. Juney. That's how we're different.


	65. Chapter 65

Look How You Turned Out 65

Scenes from the holidays part one:

"Wow," Juney says when I hit the lights. No electrical short. That's good. Yeah, Charlie's ancient lights with the big, hard to find, special order bulbs that cook the Christmas tree before it's time are pretty awesome I must admit. That slow-cooked pine is the most delicious smell of all.

Well, there are other more delicious smells like my husband's neck just under his ear. He tells me I'm crazy, but when I breathe there, I'm entranced. I'm home. They need a Yankee candle of this, I tell him. I'd have one in every room of the house. And I'd rub up on things all day.

He thinks I'm pretty funny.

Anyway Charlie's house is rockin' when he finally gets to come home on his walker. He drops into his recliner, well eases into it, me and Juney telling him over and over, "Butt first," like the therapist said. So he eases into it with a sigh, eyes closed as he's sitting there like a rumpled suit and he smiles so big.

"You're home Dad," I say.

I'm on the right, Juney on the left. "Grampa?" he says when Charlie doesn't open his eyes.

Then slowly he does, staring at Juney. "It's alright if you don't get me a present," Juney says gravely. Edward doesn't hear. He's carried in Charlie's stuff and then gone out back to put wood in the stove.

Charlie smiles even bigger. "You think Santa can't hear a man in the hospital son?"

Juney looks at me. He's decided, last year, that Santa is a bust. Well he knows it now, can't believe everyone worked so hard to lie to him and keep up the ruse. When Edward admitted Santa was every kid's mom and dad, Juney swore he was never going to believe anything else Edward told him. Of course when Charlie found out he gave Mr. Juney a talking to. There's some things you don't question, Charlie told him. In life, there are some watering holes you don't dig twice. One of them is Jesus and the other is Santa. Now as a boy grows in to a man his definition of both will change, broaden some, and narrow some. He may even find he has to be one or the other many times in his life. But in the end, he'll see there are things bigger and stronger than his mere mortal self, things that man doesn't mess with cause he just might find himself someday standing before the judge naked as a jay-bird with no defense but his big ideas and that, boy, is a place you never want to be. You got that? Charlie said.

Juney answered, yes sir.

So now, when Charlie says Santa, Juney puts up with it. When he says Jesus…well that argument will probably come later but for now Jesus has stepped in.

I have told Charlie his theology scares me. You can't put Santa on the cross and you can't put Jesus in a sleigh.

He says he wouldn't think of doing either one. But if the sleigh and notions like it, notions based on magic and generosity can teach a boy there's bigger things, unseen things, then that sleigh can open that boy's mind.

I don't know how many times he held me on his lap, summer and winter, and maybe I was crying over something, sure it was the end of the world and he'd always end with this, "Just remember kiddo, there's more out there than what you can see. This world ain't driving itself. Absolutely everything works out…eventually."

"I'm glad you're home Dad," I tell him, my hand on his arm.

"Me too sweetheart," he says, finally opening his eyes.

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I credit Sue for making Charlie's annual Christmas Eve party the best ever. I think it is. Maybe it's because of the company I'm keeping, and maybe it's because Dad has been so long gone. But everyone is in the right places, finally.

So I'm dancing in the living room with Edward. Well some of the guys are dancing with their wives or girlfriends, and Edward and I are off to the side, and we're dancing, my arms around his neck, his slung around my hips. Oh and I'm wrapped in garland. He did it.

"I like you," I say. I'm a little tipsy.

He laughs.

"You're too pretty," I say.

He laughs some more but the way he holds me, just dirty enough to not be dirty in front of co-workers and Charlie, but his fingers are doing the walking wherever they can, and he's gotten me a couple of a times in the pantry, and I got him upstairs when he came out of the bathroom, I wrestled his jeans down and sucked him a few times, left my fingernails in his ass he said later, and oh, I ran away, back downstairs. So it's been this little contest going on. But now we're dancing.

David is dancing next to us, and he says get a room and we both groan. I hate, hate, hate that cliché. I stick my tongue out at him for his lack of imagination but I want to give him the finger.

Dad is holding court from his recliner.

Wasn't it just last year this was the big people room and I was on the outside looking in, trying to trap Edward somewhere near the taco chips and hope to hell he'd notice me as someone more than Charlie's little Pollyanna?

But the kids are downstairs in the unfinished basement playing ping-pong and pool and going crazy.

I've seen Juney a few times, sweaty and flushed in his face, his eyes so bright with Christmas frenzy. He's confident and definitely the leader of this shindig when it comes to the juveniles.

So it's good, it's great, and we don't even need a designated driver. But since Edward has to work at six freaking a. m. on Christmas, he's only had a couple of beers. Well me too, but it doesn't take much for me.

Sue is sitting on the arm of Dad's chair. Dad is wearing red shorts and his elastic socks from the hospital. He has on a red flannel shirt Sue bought for him, and a Santa hat. He's animated and happy. He's…shit…Dad's in love.

"I've…I've never seen Charlie…in love before," I say to Edward.

"Yes you have," he says. "He's been in love with your mom for years."

He has a point. Charlie loves and loves and loves. He doesn't know how to stop. And unrequited love can be lethal. But this with Sue is different.

I look at Sue. She's an attractive woman, an active woman, a workhorse of a woman. She has an amazing attitude. Not overly deep, but not shallow. A little shallow, but upbeat. Perfect for my Mark Twain of a dad.

Sue's in love. She is. Her head is thrown back, laughing at something Charlie just said. She grips his arm, he takes her hand. Shit!

"What?" Edward says. The music has sped up, but we're still slow dancing.

"My Dad and Sue. Even seeing Mom…maybe it was closure for him."

It was. I think her visit might have been good for him. He's…he's free. Free to love Sue.

I almost want to thank my mother….

"Are you crying?" Edward says.

"Yes," I answer, sniffing.

His arms move higher, closer to my shoulders. "Happy tears?" he says.

"Mostly."

"Okay," he says gathering me close again. "Okay my Bella."


	66. Chapter 66

Look How You Turned Out 66

Scenes from the holidays part 2:

Charlie retires before the last of his guests leave. He's had a good day, a fabulous evening. I am helping Sue bag food and Edward has taken Juney home to put him to bed.

I unplug Dad's tree and give a last look around. Sue is spending the night on the couch, to be close at hand in case Charlie needs anything. Therapists will come for a few weeks to make sure Charlie keeps progressing. Sue says she'll clean in the morning. The diner is closed on Christmas Day. I am glad Dad won't wake up to an empty house on Christmas morning.

So it's goodnight and a hop, skip and a jump.

Outside it's cold and clear and the stars are brightly shining. There is a foot of snow on the ground but the street and the sidewalks are clear as the snow there has been shoveled or salted.

It feels good to fill my lungs with the sweet frigid air that's tinged with the scent of wood being piped from our chimneys. So I breathe like this for a while as I hang on to Charlie's door knob. It's Christmas Eve and it always melts away…well it has. It's midnight.

By the time I hit the curb Edward has the door open, a patch of light behind him. He takes a couple of steps and I see he's holding the same strand of garland we are going to wear tonight while we make love. I have to laugh cause he didn't put it so nicely when he wrapped that stuff around me at Charlie's. He plans to tie me up, tie us together, eff me up and down or something. So I walk toward him, I'm sauntering now, holding what's left of my Cowboy Caviar in a red Christmas bowl. And I'm smiling.

1111111111111

Here's what I didn't tell you, it was two days ago now, I'm in the vegetable aisle at the grocery and I've just bagged my cilantro and there's a tap on my shoulder and there she is…Jessica.

I jump so it's embarrassing, but I'm keyed up with the thought of something like this happening…and now it is happening.

So she holds up her hands, great manicure if you can get past worrying about whether or not it doubles as a weapon. But she seemingly comes in peace. She is, at this moment, contrite.

"Please don't…be worried. I just want to say thank you for returning my mixer. They told me at the station it was because of you. Thank you," she says.

I nod.

"I was…wrong to do…what I did. I was way over the line. I…hope in time you can learn to not be afraid of me," she puts her hand over her heart, "in case we run into each other. That mixer means the world to me. My mom and a couple of friends are cancer survivors. So yeah…the pink you know."

I didn't know. All the more reason not to throw it through someone's window, but hey, it's an old topic and I'm not here to beat a horse, even a dead one.

"I," she's digging in her big pink purse, "wanted…," she pulls a small clipped stack of white cards free and is going to great lengths to rip a couple of these from the stack. Then she fishes for a pen and hurriedly writes upon these tickets. She is telling me they are coupons…for haircuts or services at her salon and she wants to give them to me. A bikini wax is mentioned. Someone else will do the work. I can even come in on Monday, her day off if that will make me feel better.

She hands these to me, and this is where it gets even more dicey. I wear two rings now, as yes, they've come in, our wedding rings, so two rings on that finger, and she stares there. She has no cool or game either, she just stares.

I toss the cilantro into my cart. I'm saying thanks as I push the cart away from her…she's still staring.

I leave produce, fully expecting a watermelon to hit my back, or at least a tomato. I move the crumpled coupons from hand to pocket to be dealt with when I'm safely in my truck headed toward home. I don't like to litter but I make an exception for the two tickets I toss from my window.

Edward has to go back to the grocery later to pick up all the things I missed.

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Christmas morning finds Edward and me quite naked, wrapped together under the covers, the garland still vining around us, and we're probably snoring wickedly or something. Juney's shouting wakes us. It's five a.m..

"Oh for real?" are the first words out of my mouth.

I move and I'm kind of stuck to Edward and I itch a little from where the garland is imprinted. I need a shower and a glass of water for starters. I think of drinking the unfiltered shower water, yeah not doing that.

Mr. Beautiful raises his head and calls to his son, "Juney…calm down. We're coming."

"Bella, Bella you've got to come on. Come on!" Juney shouts through the door. He is hysterical.

"The puppy?" I call.

But he's obviously running back and forth down the hall as his voice grows loud then more distant, over and over again.

"Is Charlie alright?" I nearly scream ripping the garland off my body and stepping free. Is my dad out in the snow or something? No, Sue is with him. But...is there an ambulance out there?

Edward is pulling on some sweat pants. He foregoes a shirt, tiny flecks of gold stuck here and there from our Christmas merriment. Me, I'm searching madly for something to wear. I settle on Edward's long shirt from the party and some sleep shorts because those are the things I find first.

Edward is out the door already. He's in the living room, lets out a long, low whistle, then tells Juney to calm down. I enter then. I'm also wearing my Uggs.

"Look, look," Juney's insisting, pulling me to the window.

There, in the driveway, barely lit by a distant streetlight and the moon, sits a new red Jeep wearing a big red bow.

I look at Edward.

"I didn't do it," he laughs.

"Santa Claus," Juney says dancing around. "Come on…let's go see it." His boots are in his hand.

So the two of them take a minute to get their boots on, and Edward is pulling his coat over his skin and I grab the nearest jacket, Juney's Redskins, and I'm out. More snow has fallen, falls lightly now. It accumulates on the edges of the bow, on the grill, against the wipers. I pull the door and there's a card laying on the driver's side leather seat.

It says Bella on the envelope. Okay. I open the thick envelope, and inside the card is paperwork for the title. I see the signature. Writing on one side of the card. My legs are bare. I'm freezing.

Edward and Juney are out. "Are there keys?" Juney is saying while Edward tells me to go back inside and get pants on. When I don't answer I soon realize he's wrapping an afghan around my waist, but I'm standing there reading the card in the light provided from holding the vehicle's door open.

"Who is it?" he asks.

"Dad, can I get in the back?" Juney is saying, but Edward makes him wait until I answer.

"It's um…it's Renee. A um…a wedding present."

That quiets everyone…for a minute.

"Can we keep it?" Juney asks.

I look at him, so eager, at Edward, truly waiting on me to decide.

"Um…the keys are...," I flip the visor and they fall on the seat.

"Whoo-hoo," Juney is saying. "Can we go for a ride?"

"Just…let me get used to it for a minute, okay?"

"C'mon," Edward is saying, pulling me along to go back inside.

Once we're in there we make coffee and I drink mine as I stare out the window at the lightening sky. Juney is negotiating to open the presents, and Edward is in the family room building a fire. The card said it wasn't for Christmas. Renee knew to leave that alone. She hadn't been here for nineteen of them. That's how it was. But she asked if she could do this one thing to bless my wedding. She said that her husband had been well insured and she had means now, but she wanted to do things with this money that were special. She wanted to do something to show me how proud she was. Proud of me.

She wasn't trying to buy anything but the privilege of saying, "Congratulations." There was the mention of my beautiful men.

I am touched by the gesture, but it's not a pure feeling, not by any stretch. As generous as her message sounds, I know this is very much about her too.

I imagine her need to feel this connection to a daughter she sacrificed to a husband she didn't love. Wow. That's it. That's the stark version of our truth.

If I take the gift, do I condone it? Her? I need to speak with Dad before I do anything. He must have given his consent to this. But right now, I'll let it sit there because what can I do?

So we allow Juney to open one gift. It's from me, to him and Edward. X-Box 360.

Edward gets Juney Beats. I open my mixer, and the glass bowl.

Juney gives us matching coffee cups. Edward's says, "Greatest Dad."

Mine says, "Greatest Mom."

"Thank you," I tell Juney.

He shrugs. I get a hug for the X-Box. From each, and I'm a little worried about Edward because he doesn't like Juney to have too much screen-time. But it must be okay because Edward's hug includes a secret ass squeeze. I tell them Charlie went in on it. Juney wants to know how it splits up. Do they own it fifty-fifty or what?

I confirm fifty-fifty.

He wants to know what happens when he goes to college.

I tell him to pick one near home.

He gave me a cup that says, 'Mom.' "About that cup," I say to him…I point to my new title. "So what…it's official?"

He stares at me for a minute. "Depends what you do with the Jeep." Big grin.

Then I chase him into the kitchen and catch him near the fridge and tickle him against the door.

He doesn't use his full strength to get away and Edward calls at him not to, of course, so I show mercy.

But standing there watching the two of them hook up the box, without a doubt, that mug is my favorite gift.


	67. Chapter 67

Thanks to Patty Rose and the women at Rob Attack for all of their hard work creating and overseeing the 2013 FF contests. Thanks to all who voted for this story, making it place second in the WIP category. Much appreciated.

Look How You Turned Out 67

"Don't over-complicate this Bella," Charlie says tiredly, seated in his recliner, the usual bed-hair as I've pretty much bombarded him as soon as he's up. "You've got a new Jeep. Allow your family to enjoy it."

I want to. Juney is so excited. But I'm not getting the satisfaction from speaking with Dad that I'd hoped.

I'm surprised he gave Renee permission to do this, actually worked with her on it from Charlie Central, room three-twenty-nine.

"She has an opinion," I say. One he's not aware of. When I spoke to her at the restaurant I hit the nail on the head. She thought I was repeating her mistakes. I made it clear I was not. I didn't allow her to walk away without having my say. I stated our differences. I knew them. Now she did.

So what…she rewarded me? Pities me?

"She wanted to do something," Charlie says. "If you don't let someone give sometimes, Bella, they can't get better."

"Why should I care if she gets better, Dad? Better than what? What do I owe her?"

"Technically nothing. Nothing at all," he says. "All the cards are in your hand. She's got nothing."

"I hate when you do this."

"Do what?"

"Just…present the evidence and leave it on me. I hate it."

"It's up to you, kiddo. I've said my piece. You decide. You want to give it back, I'll call the dealership and have someone pick it up."

"I need to speak with her. I know she gave you her number."

He picks up his cell and gives me the number. I punch it in mine. She answers on the second ring.

"It's me," I say, "Bella."

"Yes," she says. There's eagerness in her voice, but she's not sure.

"The car…you shouldn't have. I mean, you really shouldn't have." I'm saying this in front of Charlie, as much for his benefit as for hers. I have her on speaker.

"I knew you might take it this way," she says quietly. "I meant it in the best way, Is…Bella. There's been so much…I wanted to make a gesture…please. You're such a wonderful young woman, Bella. I'm…I'm so grateful to have had some…small part in your existence."

I'm quiet and tears are coming, and not from sentiment or because I believe or don't believe anything she's saying. Tears are coming because she's hurt me. There's a wound way back there, and I've reconciled all that, I have, but she wants this joy that she's denied herself, this joy of sharing something that means so much to her, this money that represents a life she loved. And she's killing two birds here, that's all. She wants to lay this on me, this gift, this money. Like she's judged I'm worthy of it now that she's been here and I've defended my position and she's seen my family. Like that's how she sees it. The two best things coming together…her Tennessee man and the daughter she abandoned. It's a tied Christmas bow in her mind.

Why is it my job to go along? I just want her to leave me alone.

But as surely as I say that I know I don't mean it.

I don't mean any of it. It doesn't make sense. But I'm not mad enough to pull this off…outrage or something. I just want to not have this problem.

"Just take it Bella. Please. If not for yourself, take it for that darling son. Let it bless your family. Please."

"And when the darling son asks why we don't see his grandmother? The cool grandmother that gave us a car?"

"Tell him the truth," she says.

"He knows the truth. His mother left him as well. He knows the sad truth. What do I do…help create a new fairy tale for him…that maybe there's a shiny new car in his future some day? That taking it makes everything great? That mothers who run away are really heroes in the end…that they come back bearing gifts? Do you know how important it is that he knows the difference between love and manipulation? Do you know his mother?"

Now I have the outrage. Now it's clear. Juney. The overjoyed one. The one who wants to ride that Jeep to glory. My impressionable son. There is a fierceness in me. A ridiculous fire.

"It's not just me," I say. "What can I possibly teach 'my darling son,' by accepting this that's going to help him?"

There is a pause, poignant, loudly silent, my hammering heart barely slowing, breathing, me struggling between two parents for the first time in my life. Me struggling as a mother. "What can I possibly teach him…?"

"Forgiveness," Dad says.

Renee breaks down then. She is sobbing. I hand my phone to Dad. I've been sitting on the floor so I lay back, and listen to her…she speaks unintelligible words. She is releasing the deepest crying.

I have my arms over my eyes, her sounds are going in to me. In to me like sand rapidly filling a deep hole.

It lasts for a long time, or a couple of minutes, the three of us, there.

Renee asks me to forgive her.

I tell her I do.

I thank her for the car.

She thanks me…I don't know why.

We promise to touch base now and then…an email.

Will we do it? No idea.

Forgiveness, the very act, can be a soul-crunching piece of dirty work.

I end up draped over the arm of the recliner, my head on Charlie's heart, his arm around me. Sue has stayed out of the way. I'm glad she's still with Dad when I leave and walk across the street.

Once I'm in the house, in the living room, I hear Edward and Juney's voices from the back of the house where they play with the X-box. I listen for a few minutes, to the sounds they make while they play, happy, unguarded sounds. My music.

I find the keys to the new Jeep on the kitchen counter, put there by some masculine hand while the fate of the new red beast has been decided.

I take those keys and they jingle and that's when they notice me. Edward can see me looking like hell, but Juney just sees the keys in my hand. "Anyone want to go for a ride?" I ask, my nose clogged, my voice raspy.

"Yeah," Juney yells. He's telling Edward they can pause the game. He's saying he has to find his boots.

Edward stands slowly. "You sure baby?" he says.

"Yeah. But you're driving. I just have to go to the bathroom, but hey, will you pour me some coffee in my new mug?"

Edward gets close to me, smooths my hair back from my face, looks me over. "I can do that," he says.

I smile at him. "Good. That's…good."

"Okay," he says, "my Bella."

"And the Jeep," I whisper just before I kiss his lips, "I'm naming it Smaug."

"Why's that?" he asks, kissing me again.

"The past is like an anchor, holding us back," I quote the scaly beast.

"And he's red."


	68. Chapter 68

Look How You Turned Out 68

"Look at me," Juney says carving a circle on the ice with the blades of his skates. They were his dad's a million years ago. Esme gave them to him, and his arms are open and he's wearing a crazy knit hat with monkey ears, also from his grandmother, and he's not self-conscious yet, and he's so funny and full of life. Our faces are frozen, but we're not even thinking of going home yet, even though I can't feel my feet.

We go around the pond a few more times playing crack the whip, I whip him forward then once I catch him he has to crack the whip and give me a head start. But he catches me eventually then I crack him again.

We have forward races and backwards races, we work on our twirls. I've fallen on my ass a couple of times, once I saw stars, but after four hours I make the adult decision that the sun is getting ready to drop and we need to call it a day or a night.

We ride home with not much to say but a few smiles now and then. The heater is blasting and the radio. We get hot chocolate at a drive through because I don't even want to try and walk on these dead feet of mine. He tells me when he grows up he's going to be sheriff. Fancy that. I tell him he'll be a fantastic one, third generation and all. His dad has already taken him to the range, not the official one, but the one on Billy's property. Well, of course he has. I was his age Charlie took me. With guns in the house I had to learn a healthy respect. The sooner the better. He's learned the same.

The last couple of miles he is anxious to be home. He visits Charlie, does things for him. Charlie says he'll make it with a partner like Juney. Best deputy he ever had bar none, and Juney likes to tell his dad that. Edward rolls his eyes.

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By New Year's Day it has been officially decided that Charlie will take an early retirement due to his injuries. He is healing well, but retiring was always the plan. Folks want Edward to run in the spring. He is unopposed.

Edward likes being sheriff more than he ever imagined he would. It's a lot of desk time, but in our small county it's also a fair amount of travel and variety. The money is better than what he was making as a deputy. The hours can suck. But something has changed, he tells me. He has a renewed interest in the work and where he is.

Of course he does. We're having this discussion in bed. And we're naked. Things have changed all right.

He already knows I support him. I know that job. If that's what he wants, that's what I want too. And Juney is over the moon.

As it turns out, I'm the one who seems to enjoy being a part of bringing Billy's back to glory. Months of unofficial planning have gone on while I was in Chicago. Now things are being set in motion for real and finalized. So when not goofing off with Juney I've spent the sketchy holiday week meeting over at Dad's with architects and carpenters, a kitchen designer and listening to the results of his search for new and used kitchen equipment.

Edward asks if I'm happy.

"I am!" I say with conviction. "Dad's the new Billy, and you're the new Charlie," I say, because I thought we were on a roll here, but he groans when I say that.

"Guess I'll get going on the seventies push-broom," he says making fun of Dad's moustache. "Anyway," he concludes idly running his hand over my back and backside, only lightly bruised now from my falls on the ice. He is insanely good with his big massaging hands. They feel fantastic. "I want a shot at the four years," he says.

"Well, four guaranteed years of seeing you in that new black uniform…I'm all in."

He loves that, but I'm telling the truth. He looked good in khaki, but the new black shirt and pants…ei-yi-yi.

So after he tells me again how much he loves the curve his hand is exploring, and after he expresses his more serious frustrations like the monster Charlie has created in the department by catering to too many old cronies, his lack of appreciation for technology and his lack of interest in utilizing the budget to upgrade the department, I figure I'll address the elephant in the room.

I say, "You going to tell me why you and Carlisle got into it last night?"

Just the previous evening, New Year's Eve to be exact, at his parent's home and during their party, Edward had a fight with Carlisle. We'd gone to bed without discussing this.

Juney had asked why we were leaving when we'd planned to spend the night, and Edward had shut down discussion saying, "Because I said so."

Now he says, "There's a difference between a fight and an intense discussion, Bella. What you heard was an intense discussion."

"Don't use the Juney voice on me," I say, and his stroking hand falters just a little. "You don't have to tell me what I heard last night. I've got ears and a brain and I know a fight when I hear one. Sheriff's daughter here." The side of my face rests on my folded arms.

His hand stops and he rolls on to his back. I immediately get on top of him, straddle him and hold his wrists. "No blowing me off," I say.

His face is kind of pouty and his eyes go to the irresistible danglers on my chest and pretty soon his mouth is there, on the right, his favorite though he denies it, and he's kissing that breast like he kisses me. He's Frenching it. I tell him this, gasping a little and he says, "Whatever Bella," as he kisses the left.

It feels…well my eyes are crossing, and I've left off his wrists and he's sitting up, hands on my ass, and now he's kissing me. It's not fair. That was a fight he had with his dad, an embarrassing screaming match.

Now he tells me…whaaaaa….tever?

I'm on my back, him over me and he's still kissing me. Then all over.

Our plan last night had been to be doing it right at midnight. We'd sneaked to his old room at Esme's and tried but wouldn't you know my vagina had to finish the year by clamping shut. It was the weird position. He'd not done it standing before, well I was standing, he was practically on his knees. I just wasn't comfortable. I thought I heard something. I was afraid Juney had followed us or something, but Juney was playing like a maniac in the basement with the rest of the sweaty brats who weren't being watched closely enough even though Esme had hired a teenager to oversee things.

So I offered to take care of Edward on my knees, but he was no, forget it. He said he was taking care of me. And it came to be midnight and we kissed then and he felt me up and I felt him up until we did hear someone on the landing. And Edward said it was Carlisle. I said, how do you know? And he said trust me.

Carlisle had an office up there, couple doors down and Edward told me to chill out he'd never look in this room, so I spied through a crack in the door like a guilty teenager and just like Edward said, Carlisle went into his office.

Edward held his hand toward me and said, "C'mere."

He'd had a couple of drinks and he wasn't drunk, but a little loose for sure. We made out there in the dark for a while. He asked if I was having a good time, if I was happy, and I said yes and yes. I told him Esme was great and he agreed. Then I said we should go back down before we were missed. He got his clothes presentable and next I knew he was telling me to wait a minute he needed to speak with his dad.

So I used the bathroom off his room to fix up, and when I came out I could hear an intense voice, and in the hall I could hear it more clearly so I went down there because it was my husband.

I stopped next to the door and Edward was saying, "Our definitions of success have never been the same," and that got my attention.

There was the word 'underachieving,' thrown around. Carlisle was of the opinion Edward could do more and Edward was of the opinion that Carlisle didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

And oh man, "I'm not your son," came out. That was a low blow. And, "Don't tell me how to take care of my family." And a variation on that, "You're a great one to tell me how to take care of my family."

Wow.

Intense discussion? I could smell the smoke on Edward when he came barreling out of Carlisle's office. He was shocked to see me standing there, but he put his arm around me and swept me downstairs.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

"Great," he said. "I'm great." He gave me a quick kiss. That's when he told me to get our coats he was going to find Juney.

But we were supposed to spend the night, I said, but he just repeated, get our coats.

So now it's New Year's Day, the next morning, and he has to go in at four, and it's around ten and we're still in bed. We know Juney is up and playing the X-Box, probably hoping we don't show so he can have more unclocked screen time, but we're clocking him anyway.

So we were making love and we just stopped and he's holding me beside him and we're staring at the ceiling and he is rubbing the backs of his fingers against my cheek and I don't even think he's aware.

"Hey," I say, looking at him. "Happy New Year."

He plays with a strand of my hair.

"Are you happy?" I ask him since he's asked me twice now.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

I can't answer that. "You tell me."

"Bella," we adjust some so we're facing one another under the sheet. "You on the Carlisle thing again? That's how it is with him and me. That's how it is."

"Why?" I can't imagine being so at odds with your dad. Living with it that way.

"I'm very different from him."

"But you said things…."

"I've said before."

"You sounded so angry at him."

"I'm not. I don't think about him."

That doesn't feel genuine. I know what I heard.

"It must be tough for Esme," I say, and he turns away from me again, on to his back.

"Why?"

"Really?" Now I'm up on my elbow. "If you guys don't get along…."

"We get along."

"Really?"

"Bella we just had some words."

I slowly lay back down. Our clock is making a humming noise. Our clean air machine is pretty loud, and Edward's fan. It's like an airport in here. Edward says we can make more noise this way. He means I can make more noise.

"I don't want you to worry about it," he says.

"Esme and Carlisle…I'm trying to figure it out, you know? What's going on?"

"Nothing. He's an arrogant…. He doesn't respect any profession but the one he's in."

"Is that why you're so angry?"

"I don't want to…turn you against him."

"Tell me, Edward."

I wait. He sighs. "When I was in high school…I figured some stuff out. I confronted him and he was…livid. Threw it all in my face…what he'd done for me and mom and if I told her she'd be hurt. He promised to end it…his extracurriculars, but he didn't.

"So one night I followed him, waited for him to come out of the motel. I confronted him in front of the woman and it got physical. It was bad. The manager called the cops. Carlisle talked them out of arresting us.

"He made more promises. That he never kept. I played a lot of sports in school, and grades were good. But I got in to trouble…a fight…and Mom and Carlisle were called in. He went ballistic. The first time I screw up, you know? We got in to it at home. After that I finally talked to Mom but she defended him. She um…didn't want to hear what I had to say.

"Once he saw she was going to 'stand by her man' he laid the law down. I went off to college and under-achieved my way through. Cemented my reputation with Carlisle. I had a partial scholarship for basketball but I fucked it up in my sophomore year and Carlisle had to pay for my shit. By senior year I was digging my way out. I graduated pretty well considering and things were better.

"So law school was my big turn-around. I guess somewhere in there Mom had enough and he supposedly saw the light and changed. Part of his change was getting me on the one and only career path and part of my turn around was letting him.

"But I met Angela. She was spiraling down and I was the white knight, trying to straighten her out. When she got pregnant it was inconceivable that I wouldn't marry the mother of my child. To me, not to him. He was so pissed. During school I interned at the firm where he's a partner so he felt a right to be balls deep in my business.

But working there, I got to see him for who he is. I didn't want to be around him. I also had my ever-increasing problems with Angela. He was a judgmental asshole and I was an easy target.

"I met Charlie during my internship and he was a lot of help…everything Carlisle wasn't. I saw the difference, believe me. I didn't take the bar I went into the academy."

We're silent for a minute.

"Edward…does Carlisle have a problem with our marriage?"

"He has a problem with me, Bella. Everything I do. Not with you." He kisses my temple. "How could anyone have a problem with you?"

Love is blind. "When I came home…you were going to study and take the bar."

"And buy a bar," he says laughing. "I did that, though."

"What about it?"

"I was just thinking of my options."

We lay there quietly and finally he says, "I told you, I couldn't stay here and watch you come home. Charlie wanted to do the thing with Billy's, and that made sense. I figured once he learned the ropes and Juney finished the school year I could work in to being a silent partner. But living across the street, no way. And stepping into sheriff…four years…nailed here…I couldn't."

I'm looking at him.

"What?" he says, hand on the back of my head.

"I…I just didn't know."

"How could you? I'm just…telling you."

"I'm…glad we finally got it right."

He's all serious now. "Yeah. I need you, Bella. Me."

He's staring. Not shy at all.

"I need you too," I say softly.

"For what? A big pain in the ass?" he laughs.

I shake my head. I point to my smile. "Happy."

"You need me for the happy?" he says pulling me over him. "You make me happy. You gonna open up this time?"

I hum, I'm draped against him.

He's shifting his big swollen monster around and I move a little to get in place for the spearing.

"You need me now?" he says, the head pushing against my wet entrance.

"Yes," I say breathy.

"Relax," he says, hand on the small of my back, other hand on my thigh which he has slowly leveraged as far open as my body allows.

"I'm relaxed," I say, thinking of softening for him.

He's in a little more and he makes the sound of satisfaction. "Baby…."

"You need me?" I whisper.

"Oh yeah…."

"Get in me. Get in."

Sounds in his throat as he slides slowly so slowly inside me. I rise up, my hands on his chest, his heart hammering under my palms, his chin raised, then lowered so he can see, then raised again. "Bella…I need…," he says, breathing.

"Need what?" I'm thready.

"This…Baby."

Now that's the truth. He bounces me and I help him out, but I've got such a tight internal grip on him, he's lost, I can see it, but he doesn't flop around like me, he looks at me, such a lusty satisfaction in his green, green eyes, his mouth open. "Fuck me," he says drawing it out.

"I am." I feel ready to scream he's so in there, rubbing me where I need it, deep in.

He reaches down and touches me, touches us, and it's wet and I come against his fingers, I clamp down so strong he groans like he's ramming…jamming, then he flips us and pumps like crazy and it's the best feeling to have him inside me, to have the furious drag of his head up and down in me, filling me. He lets go in a long silent clench. I keep my eyes on his face, the utter surrender there in his beautiful face, and as his eyes slide open. He gathers me against him and I lay there, still connected. "My Bella," he says, then he laughs, "My little fiend."

I don't want him to pull out, to be away from me in any form.

He asked me if I need him. "Edward," I whisper, my hand clutching his arm. "I need you. I always need you."

"That's because you're made for me." he says. He's smug. "What?" he says. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe…master."

He loves that. He rolls us around while he hugs me. He makes him laugh.

111111111111111111111111111111

Dad and Edward take ownership of Billy's in January. We plan to keep the name, but we close the restaurant for a couple of weeks to clean, reorganize, remodel. Sue keeps a watchful eye on the kitchen so there are two guys working fulltime in there.

And there's six more in the dining room and bar. Two of these are redoing the bathrooms.

But there are some things you don't ever want to touch at Billy's. Billy's is an institution and people have an opinion about all of it. The building itself. Repair by all means, but walk softly and lightly for Billy's is one of the constants in this part of the woods. The wide front porch stays the wide front porch. The double wooden screen-doors and the double wooden entrance doors a must. The old brick façade, don't touch it. Someone's grand-dad made those bricks, someone else's grand-dad headed the crew that laid them. The side of the building's great big screened-in porch and the heavily painted wide planked wood floor and matching ceiling where the summer barbeque menu is served in the evening, yeah don't be touching any of that either.

And inside, it's a living museum. Most around here remember coming to Billy's as children, their grandmas remember coming as children, too.

The bar is, in its own right, as sacred as the altar Abraham might have nearly sacrificed Isaac upon. It's a big old long shiny bar, as long as one side of the room and so are the shelves that run ceiling to back bar to floor behind it, filling the wall with beautiful cherry wood.

It's a work of art, that bar, and the ladder-backed stools with dozens of names carved into them in various places, each of them could materialize and order their own drinks they are so close to being characters themselves.

By February it's all been refurbished, cleaned and varnished. It's a real prize that whole focal point, first thing you see when you come in, well you see the end of it if you look to the right, the dining room is what sprawls before you, or used to. Now we have a partition and a reception desk and more chairs and low tables. You can get a drink at the bar and wait in the chairs while your table gets ready come Friday night when we have the buffet or on Sunday when the church crowds get out and come for lunch.

Yeah high class has come to Billy's. But it's come with care.

And on Valentine's Day…we're going to launch this rocket ship.


	69. Chapter 69

Look How You Turned Out 69

The Big Launch Part One:

"There are child labor laws," Leah says, passing Juney where he's hauling a bag of trash out back.

"He wants to be a part of it," I say but she didn't really have time to wait even long enough for that one sentence, we are that slammed on this Valentine's Day evening.

As for Juney, he begged to be a part of the launch even though it puts him to bed at a ridiculous hour on a school night. He said he needs to earn. Edward asked him, "For what?" but he's not saying, just that he's saving up.

But he's also asked me if he'll inherit the place someday, and I've told him it's a distinct possibility. So that sealed his involvement. He thinks he's the owner.

Truth is, the launch has consumed our family. No way Juney's not going to be a part of it.

That's the trouble with kids like us…motherless…we tend to either stay perpetual babies looking for the tit, or we think we're the partners of our abandoned parents. Worse we can go from one extreme to the other in about six seconds depending on mood or blood sugar levels, proper sleep or something. It's that…wild. I am corralling Juney with arms open wide, cajoling him out of being a baby when he's a brat, and encouraging him to relax when he's being forty-five. It's like the bubble in a level. I'm helping both of us find our middle.

Tonight, Billy's is humming. Packed. We required reservations but we've had walk-ins all evening because everyone around here feels ownership—a table at Billy's is their birthright…for being born in or even around Forks.

Knowing the clientele is imperative for a good business owner. Yeah, they're a stubborn, stoic, routine-oriented bunch. Can't tell them a thing, but they are happy to tell you…off. They've been coming here all their lives and never had to reserve anything.

Fortunately I've kept five tables for these dunderheads to set their righteous asses at, if they are willing to wait, and most of them are. You won't get food this good anywhere around here and they know it. So we bow and scrape and work our asses off to make it fun…and delicious. That's the game. I think. I'm really just figuring it out but I know it includes service, service, and more service.

I've been seating people, making sure tables are cleared and set so Leah can handle any back-ups in the kitchen. We're all wearing white shirts and black jeans with white butcher's aprons. Each of us needs to make sure we're pristine. There are clean aprons in back.

Every table has a red and white tavern checked cloth under glass and a red rose in a glass vase, and a battery operated candle. Sounds cheesy but when they're all lit and you look across the room, it's ambiance our lovers are appreciating. And the live music helps.

There are some complimentary starters freshened at each table with the arrival of new guests—cowboy caviar and chips, also candy hearts. A terrible combination, cowboy beans and candy, but fitting for the occasion and already proving a great success.

We have three entrees, chicken and heart shaped waffles, roasted pork and barley with brandied peaches, or a fabulous ribeye that Coy, of all people, cooks to perfection. That goes with roasted vegetables drizzled in brown-butter. Vegans are out of luck, but there are no Vegans in Forks. That's my theory. But for the Vegetarians or the kiddies, we have a wicked and less-wicked mac and cheese. If you're an adult it's mac and beer and cheese, if you're a kid it's practically the stuff in the box. Juney loves it which means it's just crappy enough to be acceptable.

Basically if it can be made in an iron skillet, and anything can, then Sue, and surprisingly, Coy, are the masters of it.

It's mostly couples tonight though a few have brought their children. Getting babysitting can be a bitch, I know that believe me as I was drafted to babysit for most of the deputies in Charlie's department through my middle and high school years, and often for one Junior Cullen. As previously stated, I was consoled by doing favors for the father…my husband. Even now, tired as I am, I want to snicker. My husband. But really I pretty much adored Juney even as I didn't want to. Well, I was the sun in my own universe and two suns…too much.

And now? No matter how busy I am, my eye is searching through the crowd for that little head of red. He works as hard as the rest of the crew, especially considering his age and size—he's fierce—he's Junior Cullen in an apron which turned around could be a cape. He's a super-hero.

So when one of the waitresses accuses Juney of taking her tip from table five and he says there was no tip and I check very quickly and find they put it on their card, I am quick to motion for Juney to come along and I follow the girl back to the kitchen. She's a new hire, but Sue knows her family and spoke for her.

"Hey Tiffany you seem to be doing a good job out there tonight," I say, "but if you think you have a problem with Juney you come to me…his mom. You don't address my son like you just did out on the floor or anywhere else but in my presence. He didn't take your tip. I overheard you accusing him, and that's not cool. So you got a problem with my son, you see me. Clear?"

"Sure Bella," she says, she shoots a look at Juney, then me again, then she's on her way to pick up an order.

My dad sends another girl into the kitchen to get me. He's helping at the bar, so I have to go.

Later, when I get a breather, I look for Juney. Sue tells me he's out back.

"Juney," I call. There's a porch light but it doesn't reach all the corners.

He says, "Back here."

I go out by the dumpsters. "Hey. How you doin'?"

"I didn't take it," he says with offense.

"Juney…it's adults in there. We're all busy. It can be tough."

"I'm fine," he says hefting the last big bag. He looks at me. "She doesn't come back quickly enough for her tips. I had to get her twice so I could bus the table."

I have to remember not to laugh. He's a little Judge Judy and he's got a point. "Well she's learning, you know?" We all are.

He nods, hands on his hips like he's about sixteen. I almost ask him for a cigarette but neither one of us smokes.

"Hey…you're doing a great job." I take his hands and dance a little. "We're doing it! It's going great!"

"Where's Dad?" he says, smiling a little.

"Verking," I say like I'm Helga, one of my thirteen personalities I have told him about in the past.

He pulls his hands away. "We better get back in there."

He walks on like he's the big person and I'm the short-stuff. I hurry after. "Hey wait up."

I catch him at the door and put my hand on it to hold it closed. "Hey…hold on a minute."

"What?" he says, eager to get back at it.

"I'm proud of you…you know?"

"No," he laughs.

"I am. You're…you're my Juney."

"Your Juney?"

"My…," I nearly say 'boy,' but at the last second I say, "…son." It's happened. It just has.

"Oh…let me in," he groans, but he's smiling.

"You're like…nineteen all of a sudden. Time goes so fast Precious," I say in that voice.

He ducks under my arm and pulls on the door. "You're crazy," he says before zipping inside.

"About you," I say because that always gets him. "Hey wait. You need to change that apron."

He sees the stains from the trash and is quickly untying. I take a clean one from the stack and put the loop over his head and he holds out his arms while I tie it, "over your six-pack," I say.

"Mom," he whispers, like I am crazy, but I don't care. He's trying not to laugh.

He hurries out then, and I'm staring after.

He said it. Not hey…or Bella. It's not just written on a mug.

We've jumped the chasm.

It's like I've given birth.

I have a son.


	70. Chapter 70

Look How You Turned Out 70

After the Launch

Exhausted. Yes. And where is Edward? Still working. He missed the whole launch. I figured he'd make it around midnight. He'd texted instructions. I was to have Charlie walk Juney and me out to his truck and drive us home.

Um no. I appreciated Edward's care and concern. I knew he had access to all the sucky crime reports, that what might happen is always on the mind of a cop. So whenever he texted me I put him at ease with a couple of words—got it. Miss you. Love you.

But I am terribly disappointed he didn't make it to Billy's, even though I know the ropes. And I will drive myself and Juney home. I lived in Chicago for heaven sakes.

Juney has fallen asleep in the office lying across three chairs. Dad is worn out and all about Sue now. And Dad is not going home. But he explains to me that Sue is just helping him out, taking care of him. There's no funny business going on. He's an old fashioned man. He's resting at Sue's. She is driving him to her house. They are taking things slow. He hasn't lost his sense of right and wrong. He's still my dad.

I am too tired to be as horrified by this conversation as I normally would be. "Dad," I say, "it's been like nineteen years. There's probably…guys who've become priests…and left in a quarter of that time."

"You did great out there tonight, kiddo," he says ignoring me like he usually does when I say stuff he doesn't want to deal with. "And that one…he's something else," Dad said pointing at his inert grandson.

"Yeah," I say all goofy. "He's…pretty adorable. Calls me Mom," I shrug, and tears come and I have to get ahold of myself.

Dad gives me a big hug. "That's great, Bella."

I tell him I love him. He tells me he loves me. We're partners…still. Valentines from way back. Fitting because we work well together. We always have.

So Juney and I are finally out the door ready to head home at two a. m. Normally it wouldn't matter, but Juney has to be at school this very Saturday morning for a special band competition. Big deal. He's a baby. He can pretend to play his French Horn…while he sleeps. He says he doesn't want to go. He's usually pretty responsible, and if he doesn't want to go no biggie.

So I load us up for home. He walks, but it's not a walk I can trust. He is passing the Jeep and headed for the woods. "Juney," I say sharply, and he veers back toward the vehicle, his arms flopping around, the walking dead, point made.

I get the door and he falls in. Falls. His face is on the seat, his body crumpled on the floor. I'm not going to argue until we start to move and I realize he can't wear his seatbelt, so I stop until he is up and properly buckled.

He's asleep in two minutes but for me it won't be as easy. I am revved and exhausted at the same time. I probably won't sleep because it takes me forever to wind down. And I have that red thong.

I want to see Edward and give him his living Valentine.

But when I pull in our driveway at home, Edward is still not there. I've texted and gotten another quickie answer. "Be there soon. Sorry. Love." But I was supposed to let him know when we got in so I've done my part. I shower, put on the red butt floss and I flop.

Lying there, sideways on the Serta, cheek crushed against Esme's bedspread that slightly matches my thong, I know he's a big boy, and I'm too tired to investigate. I'm too….

But a few hours later I'm standing in our bedroom, before Edward who has finally come home. He's taken off the extras—badge and gun, belt—he's holding those and he's in a black undershirt. If sex was a man….

"No, no, no, no," I'm saying. His right eye is swollen partially shut. It happens. I know I'll find his shirt already soaking in the washer. It's what they do, cops, so the kids don't see. The injury is bad enough.

That's why he didn't come to Billy's last night. He was dealing with this, and then the hospital. He's got a couple of stitches.

I've seen Edward hurt before. But now, it hurts me in a whole new way.

"Oh my face, my favorite face, my handsome…my handsome…." I'm moving my hands around him. He keeps trying to get a good look at my thong so he moves us in front of the mirror.

So here we are, it's four thirty in the morning. It has been a night. He got knocked off his feet and met a china cabinet, he says. One of the big Duval twins, knew them well from Charlie, meth-heads, wife-beaters. Mother-effers!

He shushes me, fingers running all over my red frill and we stand there and he does that and he looks at us in the mirror while we hold each other and he's palming my tired ass. "Baby I like this."

He scoops me up after a couple of minutes and lays me on the bed like I'm the one hurt.

He gets in beside me and covers us up. He can explore better this way. Now his hand is rubbing me under the bit of silk. I'm rubbing him and we bring each other to an end that way. It's about three minutes and sloppy. He doesn't even have his boxers off and he snaps them in place over the mess, puts his arms around me. I don't even remember falling asleep it must be instantaneous.

But he's up in a couple more hours, three more. "What is it?" I say, barely able to open my eyes.

"Juney has band. You sleep. I'll take him."

"No. He's not going. Edward…come back to bed." My hand is reaching.

"I can't," he says.

"It's too much. He didn't get to bed until two-thirty. He worked like a little champ. You can't take him. Come on. I'm still wearing the thong."

"Yeah, it's on my mind, believe me. But we made a deal…he did."

He means Juney begged to work in the launch and Edward, who was against it because he had the band thing, folded with Juney's promise he'd still be okay to go to the contest.

"It's your fault. You didn't show up to take him home," I say.

He points to his face as he balances to pull on his pants.

"I know, so we revamp the plan. He needs to sleep."

"He can sleep when this thing is over. I paid five hundred bucks for that instrument and we made a deal he would take it seriously."

"He does! He wasn't out smoking a dubee last night, he was working his little butt off at your diner!"

He has his pants on but they aren't closed. He's posing like the Jolly Green Giant, but he looks way better…like ripped and even beat up…just amazing.

"You're blowing my order," he says.

"Your order is fucked, Edward," I say.

"Exactly," he says and to my dismay he goes to his sock drawer.

I'm up, closing the drawer, almost getting his fingers caught. "Sorry," I say, leaning on the drawer, only letting off to pick the thong from my ass, but that's quick and I'm back on in a millisecond. I cross my ankles and my arms. Juney is not going to band.

He takes a few seconds to look me over and that pisses me off a little. "Nice look," he says, his hand working its way under my ass. Then he tries to move me aside. I plant my feet and grab onto him. He smashes his lips onto mine and wraps me in his arms and it's a delicious kiss, with tongue and he bows me back and I'm getting in to it when he pulls away.

"It's fucking hard to argue with a woman in a red thong," he says, kissing me again.

I grab his cheeks and he moans and he's half carrying me to the bed, only not as nice as last night he flings me there and he's with me and his fingers are gaining entrance…well I've apparently lowered the castle door.

These loud sounds are coming out of me…even I recognize that. He's adjusted and oh god, he's in me, inching in, and there's sweat on his lip. I lick that.

"I've got a headache," he grinds out as he moves in deeper.

"And it's me?" I say, panting.

"Oh yeah," he says and he's starting to pump.

He's so tight in me it's just exhilarating. I scream a release.

He doesn't even try to shush me now, he comes undone and he's holding himself on his elbows, but he's suspended, eyes closed, and when he comes down…or back, he looks at me, mouth slack, eyes shiny but soft, except that one is pretty red.

"How's your head?" I ask.

He sighs and rolls off, flops beside me. "You're in my head," he says. "How do you think?"

I raise. "I'm the ache?"

"Sometimes," he says staring at the ceiling.

I keep looking at him, waiting for him to recant or restate or something.

He doesn't, so I lay back down. "Nice," I say.

He nudges me. "Hey. I'm an asshole when I'm failing."

"Failing? Who…where are you failing?"

He looks at me, we're practically nose to nose. He touches my cheek with the backs of his fingers, then gives it up.

"Not me," I say. He's not failing me.

He looks at the ceiling again, flexing his jaw, shaking his head a little, lips almost pursed.

"What shit is this?" I say.

"I wanted to be there," he says.

"I know. It's okay."

He's no nonsense now. "No it isn't."

"Okay. You want to punch yourself in the other eye? Don't be ridiculous." I say, pulling the comforter over me.

"I want him to meet his commitments," he says.

"He does."

"I don't want him to think…he can make a promise and blow it off."

"We are talking about Juney right? Or the president? Are we talking about Obama?"

He has to smile now. But I'm not smiling. Not really. "Are you this…hard on Juney?"

He looks quickly at me. "I'm not hard on him. Do you think I am?"

"If you make him go to band…you're Hitler."

"Spoken like a true headache," he says, and even his smile doesn't soften that.

"I don't like being called a headache."

He gets serious. "Alright. Pain in my ass."

We're quiet again. I'm not laughing.

"C'mere," he says gathering me. "I mean good headache. Good pain in my ass. Good…ass," he says squeezing down there.

"I don't know how you got along without me," I sigh.

"I don't either," he says. "Bella…thanks…for everything."

"For what?"

"The diner…putting up with me…Juney."

"Juney. He's…he's great you know."

"Yeah. I know."

"He a…he called me Mom."

He laughs and he squeezes me. I pull back to look at him, to put my hand on his face, and his eyes are shiny. "I love you so much babe," he says. "Oh." He gets out of bed, pulls up his boxers and kicks off his pants. He goes to his dresser drawer and comes back with a little box. "Happy Valentine's Day."

I take the velvet covered box. He gets in bed beside me and I open the lid to see the little silver heart shaped locket. It's beautiful, and inside a picture of him, a picture of Juney. I laugh at this. "My guys," I whisper.

He helps me put it on, then he kisses the back of my neck.

11111111111111111111111111

A few of days later a severe blizzard traps us all in our houses. Edward can't be trapped, and he is out in it, gone for several days, pulling all-nighters at the station.

Billy's is closed for two days, open on the third and then just for lunch, to serve people like Edward, or guys clearing the roads. A couple of those roads are closed for the first time I can remember.

School is cancelled. Juney and I are marooned, going back and forth between our house and Dad's. It's so much fun, rather exciting. If only Edward could come home and not be on the backroads risking his life, I could be ecstatic right now. Juney and I have been baking, taking treats to Charlie, cooking up a storm.

I finish moving out of my old room and into my new home with Edward. I clean Dad's upstairs and rearrange the furniture so it has two nice guestrooms and a dated but well-functioning bathroom complete with guest towels and soaps. Juney and I keep the stoves loaded with wood.

Then the three of us work to clean Dad's downstairs. Dad makes another pile on the backporch for Goodwill.

Then I focus on Edward's house. I take the time to get really serious about this place. I want it to look fabulous next time Edward pops in, I mean I want his Dudley Do-right to fall on the floor.

Juney and I are on fire from our success at Charlie's. My son thinks we should go into business as professional organizers and decorators. He's the victim of too much HGTV which I love and he absorbs vicariously. He's actually opinionated about where I'm moving the living room furniture. He comes up with really good ideas on how I can blend my stuff into the formerly masculine landscape. He loves to arrange my knick-knacks, my ceramic elf collection, and my brief Quellite art collection.

While some of his arrangements are a definite no, to be rearranged by yours truly when he's back in school, slowly and subtly so he doesn't notice, some of his ideas are great.

"I want all of your art. All of it," I say.

He brings out a box. Then another. And one more.

"Dad loves this stuff," he says. He then carefully explains each and every piece.

A couple of hours pass, but we find the best ones, the most loved, the most profoundly wonderful pieces-the cop with the big, big hands and the yellow badge, the boy and his dad fishing, the dad's arm around the boy, the truck, a familiar faded red, with the father and son inside, both smiling.

The father chopping wood and the son stacking it into a mountain that he stands upon and waves from.

The two hands, Edward's the outside line, Juney's the inside line.

Charlie's house, Charlie in the downstairs window waving, and a girl in the upstairs window waving.

"Who are we waving at?" I ask him.

"Me," he says.

We pick out the best and we put them in the frames from a set of hotel prints that Edward had given to him by Esme. Looks like she was trying to find something to fill his walls. There are eight black frames and they are perfect. I have to trim some of Juney's art, but I do it with his permission and pretty soon we have such a great set of originals. I have impressed myself. "These belong in New York!" I tell him.

He grins. "They belong right here!" he says. "Dad is gonna love this!"

I do the same with their pictures. They have a bunch, and Juney tells me the story behind many of them. Then they have gaps. Again I take generic prints out of frames and we use stiff black paper to mount several of the photos, all Edward and Juney shots, sometimes just Edward. I wonder where the Angela ones are, not that I'd hang them, but Juney might want to know. So I just ask and Juney says Dad put them in a book somewhere.

"Okay," I whisper and we smile at one another. We both know how it is. It just is. There is a mother and she has been and now she isn't. The what and where is a play it by ear. For now, Angela is contained in a book in a cupboard, closet or attic. A good, safe place to keep her. You can't throw her away the way she…did you. So you put her out of sight and she falls right out of your mind. But beware…there's a grand gesture in your future.

You might even forgive.

I pick up a shot of Edward and Juney posing after one of Juney's baseball games. Edward…he's happy with Juney, but his eyes…like a hurt…the thing Esme knew. He's different now. I see it.

Juney keeps me moving. There are a few pictures that include me. Innocent shots, a couple of funny ones, me holding up fish mostly or making horns behind Juney's head. But one…, "That's his favorite," Juney says.

It's graduation. I'm standing in front of Charlie's house. Dad took this. I don't know how Edward ended up with it. I'm just standing there, it's nothing…I'm smirking, looking like a smart ass.

It embarrasses me. Cause I don't know shit. I wish I could tell her to get a clue, to avoid the upcoming journey to Chicago at all costs, to run to the man across the street and declare myself.

But she wouldn't have listened. What a punk.

"Frame it," Juney says.

So I do. I frame my punkness for all time. It appears in the collage and that's pretty real I guess. Here I am.

When I hang these, and he helps me, I put the photo with me on the bottom corner of the carefully measured display.

But later, before I go to bed, I notice the pictures are off. Off…but good. He's moved the one of me to the middle, and the bigger one that had occupied that space, the one of him and Edward on a roller coaster at Six Flaggs, to the corner.

He's given me the center space. There can only be one sun. I tried to defer. I could laugh because he can't know my fresh face is the last thing I want to see. But I bow to his wishes. And I'll be moving it…soon.

The third day, Edward makes a sudden appearance while we're eating lunch and playing Life. We both squeal and hug him from different angles. My hug is longer than Juney's. There's a bag of Cheetohs for Juney and a box of Twinkies for me. Good gas station food.

While I'm dishing Edward some beef stew Juney is showing him the changes, especially the two picture groupings. Edward is so interested in each thing, and he keeps looking at me in between the various pit-stops on the tour saying what a wiz I am. He likes the elves. "We have a lot of them," he says and I have to laugh at that.

After he eats he asks if Juney wants to play a couple of rounds on the X-Box, and Juney does, of course, so they start the game and I do the dishes and feel Edward's eyes on me, and when I look he winks. So as soon as the dishes are done Edward says Juney can play for a while, he's going to lie down.

After ten of the longest minutes in creation in which I wipe the counters and Swiffer the floor, then scour the stove top, I ask Juney if he'd mind running some stew over to Grampa Charlie.

"Are you coming?" he asks.

"I'll stay here to finish the laundry. Don't check the stove without Grampa watching."

"Okay," he says, "let me just finish this round."

I pack up the food, then I pack up Juney and watch him safely trudge across the street. "Don't stay more than an hour," I call after him. Hopefully I've programed him to stay for sixty minutes. I can eff Edward's brains out and get in some good cuddle time in that precious allotment.

When Juney is inside Grampa's door, I close ours and skip to the bedroom in my big thick socks. I open the door to the bedroom and I'm stripping on my way to the bed. As soon as I get there Edward sits up, the red comforter and the gray sheets pooling around his waist. He's already naked. Good, so am I, and his long arms slip around me. I fall on top of him as he lays back and he breathes in as we kiss like two people who've been locked up in individual cages since puberty or something.

"Oh my God," I say, opening right up and welcoming him in. I'm surprised that I'm tight and resistant a bit, but I'm wet, and he's kissing me again.

"Baby I missed you," he says in there.

No talking. No time for it. I want his voice, but not mine. I've missed him. Ached. Ached.

I get up and run back to the door and lock it, then back to him. He is laughing when I leap onto him. "Do that again," he says.

I'm too busy kissing him to think of leaving. He pulls the covers over us cause it's the coldest day we've had yet. But we're about to make as much heat as we can. "Oh my tits," he says. "I've missed them," he's licking and kissing, moving down me and I am crazy. He's down there now, in the happy place, making me…us…happy.

"Oh yeah," I think I say holding onto his hair, his shaggy sexy hair. He looks up at me and his eyes are wild with lust and my whole body convulses around what he's doing to me with his beautiful mouth.

I am loud, I know it, but why not. I asked for an hour, Juney's good for twenty minutes at least, so I think I yell, "Fuck me, Edward." I mean to.

He's back, kissing me, asking if I want him to eff me, and yeah, I'm saying, yeah get that big dick of yours in there where it belongs.

So he does that, and Virginia opens right up…slowly. He gets it in there, stuffs the sausage in the casing, grind, grind, grind.

"My god!" I call out like the I'm writing a psalm. He is looking at me. "You know how good that feels big man?" Tears roll from the outer corners of my eyes.

"Yeah," he says deep in his throat. I lift up and lick that throat, and end up in a kiss that makes me defy gravity. I'm trying to levitate and he's the only thing keeping me on the bed. I think I could lift both of us to the ceiling but he's hitting it, hitting it good, oh god.

"Edward!" I scream as I come and come and come.

His final grunt as he pushes in. "God," he says.

"I love you, I love you," me.

"I love you," he says.

Perfect.

Applause.

Then we hear the front door, and, "Mom?"

For just a beat we freeze. Then, "He calls me Mom," I whisper to Edward for the millionth time.

"I know," he says and he kisses my nose. Then he rolls off.

I hurry onto on my feet and gather my clothes.

I blow him a kiss before entering the bathroom for a quick shower.

"Hey Bella…you know what I call you?" he says.

"What?"

"My life."

"Wife?"

"Life," he says louder.

"Oh. That's sweet," I say. Should I get back in that bed?

"Go on," he says, getting out of the bed.

I go in the bathroom and turn on the shower, get it right then step in. I hear the door close and he pulls the curtain and steps in behind me. He's so tall and handsome and I've missed him so much. And it's freaking chilly in here and I wrap myself around him like a barnacle.

"I wasn't ready to let you go," he says against my hair. "I never am."

"Then don't. Stay with me forever." I'm all clingy.

He makes me look at him. "Thanks for all you're doing. You work too hard."

I laugh a little. "You work too hard."

He's really looking at me. "You didn't get your period."

"So? I can be late."

"Yeah…but," he rubs a hand over my breasts, "these sore?"

"No," I say. They are, but it's the period.

"Hey…you know I'd love it."

I'm holding the Kielbasa. "How about this? Sore?"

"Don't worry about him, baby. You make him work for it, but he's resilient."

He's holding me under the warm spray. I bring him under too. I'm rubbing him everywhere.

"Let me check," I say going down low cause his resilience is beginning to show.

"Mom," Juney yells at our bedroom door though I have to shut the water off completely to hear. "Grampa walked back with me. I wanted him to see the pictures."

"Okay," I yell. "Don't wake your Dad." This makes no sense as my yelling would have wakened him if he was asleep and not licking the water off my back.

"The old man too?" Edward says grabbing a towel to put around his waist, and another so he can start drying me off. "Pictures hell. He wants to find out what's been going on at the station."

I take the towel and start working on my hair. Love time is effectively over.


	71. Chapter 71

Look How You Turned Out 71

Biscuits and gravy for real. Normally I'm thinking yum, but this time, I'm holding in a gag as I set the gigantic plates before two of these four men and bite the urge to say, "You really going to eat that…horse-shit?"

Never mind it's my honey, my Edward and Deputy David sitting across from him. They are at a table for four cause two guys came down from headquarters to meet with Edward about running.

They are teasing me, or something. I'm just trying not to hurl.

I go back for the other two plates, carry them to the table and serve the two officers from out of town.

They say something else and everyone laughs. They're just being friendly. Then one of them asks for hot sauce. I get a real big hee-bee. I feel breakfast crawling up instead of going down. My food has been confused lately.

I make it in back and lean against the wall, near the closet where Edward and I first rocketed out of the stratosphere together. I'm holding my stomach, willing myself to get a grip. It's so hot in here and it smells like bacon. Major barf motivator.

"Bella," Edward says. I didn't hear his approach.

"What? Did I seem weird out there?" I say.

He laughs a little. "You alright baby? You look pale."

Here goes the 'you're working too hard,' speech again.

"I thought you were going to leave the tables to the waitresses." It goes like this. I'm management. I am here to manage the office and the personnel.

"I was…," I'm not going to explain it. I did it special for him. Brought the plates. And I need the activity. I can only sit at a desk for so long.

"I know," he says and it's hug time, with the badge and all. I've hugged a badge…many times. I sniff him because I like to breathe him. I kind of snuggle against him. I wish I could spend the day here. I nearly stick out my tongue and lick him a little.

"Bella, are you going to be alright?" he says.

"Nyes." It's one of my favorite words, invented by Juney when he was trying to tell me he didn't have homework then remembered he did. Another hybrid-yno. He uses that one too when I say things like, "Did you take Scrapper outside so he can pee in the yard and not on the rug?"

"I'm bringing the test home tonight," Edward says.

"Where you gonna buy it, huh? It'll be all over town before I can even pee on it," I say all grousily.

"It's not going away, whether you know or not, it's still going to be in there," he says.

"I just…it will be official, you know? And you'll start to ask me about it and worry," I say.

He laughs some. "That's you, right? You're confusing us again."

"No…I'm the one who will actually have to carry the baby and get stretch marks and give birth, and you're the one who will…pass out cigars or something."

"Oh now…you're not going to be alone in this you know. I'll do a little more than be a baby-daddy."

"Well yeah," I say picking at his collar. "But…can you do the labor? I'll do the time. You do the labor."

"I can't do it for you, but I can be with you."

"Can you push a water-melon out of your pee-pee…or ass…no pee-pee?"

"Um…no, but neither can you."

"That's my point."

He kisses me. "Don't be scared. You're gonna love this kid. Look how you are with Juney."

"What if it's twins? Are you sure there're no twins in your family?"

"Cross my heart. We do one at a time where I come from."

"You've got a really big head," I say. "Sue says it's something a girl should consider before she marries. She said Coy liked to ripped her…."

"Bella…don't talk to Sue about it, or anyone like Sue. That's a downer. We won't have a little Coy…unless there's something you're not telling me."

I have to laugh. "Ah…no. It's yours if that's what you're asking."

He squeezes me. "Good to know. And my head is not that big."


	72. Chapter 72

Look How You Turned Out 72

"Dad…why are you crying?" I'm looking at Edward over Charlie's shoulder and raising my brows really high.

"Well I'm happy for you Pumpkin-face."

Edward breaks into a big smile. He knows my love of the term.

"Dad...," I say, in this hug that grows quickly awkward when Charlie lets out an audible sob. I am splattered with tears as we simultaneously back off. "Dad," I whisper hurrying into the kitchen, grabbing a couple paper towels and returning to the living room to put one in Charlie's hand.

Edward has stayed seated on the couch. Dad has just said to him, "Well, that was quick." It's the middle of April, but yeah…it's quick.

"Dad…," I begin, but he cuts me off.

"My little girl is having a baby." He swallows loudly, wiping his face.

Edward stands up then, enters the arena. He extends his hand. Charlie nods and takes it in his own. It's one of those hard grips and a good shake. It's over quick.

"I was not expecting that," Dad says as we all sit back down. The news of my pregnancy had brought Charlie right out of his chair—too fast for his hip. He is rubbing that now.

"Did you tell Juney?" Dad again.

"Not yet," I say. "He's still at Esme's."

"Better tell him so I don't spill the beans," Dad says, cause he will spill the beans. And now he works at the local watering hole—Billy's.

"Yeah I just went to the doctor and it's official so…," I say sitting across from Dad and tearing on the edges of the other towel. I don't know why I grabbed two, one for him, one for me. I'm not crying, for once.

"I'll be darn," Dad says, shaking his head, looking at me like I've just revealed the whereabouts of D. B. Cooper.

"It…ah happens," I say laughing, looking at Edward who is sitting beside me. He smiles back. He's enjoying this. I can't imagine why. It's pretty elementary. Nothing like the way he and his dad talk.

"Are you happy?" Dad asks.

"Well yeah, Dad. Are you?"

"Of course I am, but I'm not the one that has to go through it," he says, his face crinkling for a moment before he takes a deep breath and tamps it down.

"Did you tell Juney?" Dad asks.

Later that day when Esme drops Juney off, I text Edward, who is at work, that our son is home. It takes Edward another fifteen minutes to get there. Juney goes to him for a hug. He still calls Edward 'Daddy,' at odd times. "Hi Daddy," he says hugging his father.

"Hey…we've got some news," Edward says.

"What is it?" Juney says looking from Edward to me.

"Why are you looking at me?" I say.

"What?" Juney says.

I nod at Edward, "Ask him."

"What?" Juney says to Edward.

Edward smiles.

"What?" Juney says again. "No way."

I guess we're both grinning.

"The invasion?" he says to me.

I nod.

"No way," he laugh-cries.

"Way," I say.

Edward grabs him in another hug. "Not an only child anymore. Big brother," he says.

"Why?" Juney whines, his face buried against Edward.

Edward kisses the top of Juney's head and rocks him, and Juney breaks out of it.

"Kiss your mother," Edward says going to the fridge.

"My baby," I'm saying, arms open wide.

"Why'd you do it?" Juney is saying coming easily into my arms for a hug.

"It's your fault," I say hugging him for six seconds before he lets go.

"My fault?"

"You made me love parenting so much I want more," I say.

We go back and forth with our nonsense. It goes all the way to names. I make sandwiches and suggest Juney and Johnny if it's a boy and Juney and June if it's a girl. Edward points out that I can call them collectively, like a set, JJ.

That gets the proper rise out of Juney. "You guys are not doing that."

He says he wants a lock on his door. It's a two-bedroom home. Juney makes it clear he's not sharing his room. Then, "Am I?"

"No," I say, because that's not going to happen.

After a few minutes Edward has to go back to work. I follow him to our room.

"How do you think it went?" I ask him as soon as he comes out of the bathroom.

"Fine. He'll be fine," Edward says. He's holding me. It's the best feeling in the world. Here we are, two only children. We're shoving our son into a new bracket. "Wouldn't you like to have a brother or sister?" he asks.

"Maybe. I don't know. I think it's a good thing—having siblings. I just don't know any better. How about you?"

"The same. Course Carlisle replicating himself…no thanks."

That makes me laugh. "When are you going to tell them Edward?"

"I'll tell Mom and she can tell him. He's not a family person," Edward says. "What about Renee?"

"Renee?" I'm acting surprised, but oddly enough, it did cross my mind. This is a time when a normal person would be telling their mom. "It won't be soon, if I do tell her," I say. "She wasn't that excited about me, you know?"

It will always be difficult when thinking of her. Edward said he didn't think about Carlisle. I know what he means, but it's always there.

1111111111

So the days pass and I love our life. What we've made together.

I'm looking for what matters. I want to get it right. Love…matters. Being a loving wife…matters. Being a good mom…matters. Being a kind daughter…matters.

If I say I believe it…whatever 'it' is…I want to live it. I'm trying to. One way or another, my parents taught me that—each in their own way.

I know I'm young but that shouldn't stop me from being wise. And it doesn't. I just have this sense that it's a gift, you know? Life? I want to milk it…for everything. There's so much to learn, so much I want to learn.

I cry a lot because everything gets to me, is so touching. Even if I start out laughing, it ends in crying. Any jar to my emotions and I'm in tears and Edward says, "Bella…Baby, it's okay." And that makes me laugh and cry some more.

Here's the deal. I see everyday stuff in this whole new beautiful way. For example, when I look over the dining room at Billy's, I don't just see customers, you know? I see…members of someone's family, maybe a widower, or a veteran, or a single mom. I don't want to care as much as I do, but I can't help it. It's the only way to live.

I already know Edward is a good father. Angela abandoned him and he got better. Bigger. He grew. Same with my dad.

I know I'm doing my best with Juney. A lot of it is effortless. Don't get me wrong, he can be a hell of a lot of work, but I mean…I have heart so…it's…good. It's great.

1111111111111111111111111

In bed a couple of nights later Edward awakens me, or I wake up on my own, I don't know, but he's on his elbow, "Bella, you're having a dream."

I know right off I'm coming out of an alternate reality. I'm leaving the feelings of another world, another place, even the sounds of it. I think I've been screaming.

But my brain had already decided I needed to snap at him when I was in that other place-so the first thing I say, through my teeth, "I blame you." I say this like…vehemently.

His head hits the pillow and he gathers me close. He thinks this fixes everything and it usually does—his arms.

He's snoring softly. Already. How nice to be him where life is so, so simple.

"I had a dream," I say, yes I know that belongs to Dr. King, but I did have a dream.

He moves a little, clears his throat. "It's just a dream," he says in the Juney voice. He doesn't even open his eyes. Well he's tired. There'd been a robbery today in the next town. They'd chased the guy. They caught him too.

"Edward, please care," I say.

"Wha…?" he says.

He leaves the 't' off of 'what' way too often to suit me. But I leave that correction for another time. I have a dream to discuss.

"Edward, it was twins. They said twins and you didn't even care. You laughed. And I kept slapping you and slapping you and the nurse told me to stop. She was your girlfriend. So I hit her too."

In my dream, I was kind of like Sigourney Weaver. Only she just had one alien inside of her.

"Okay," he says, and he smacks his lips a little.

"Stop smacking in my ear," I say.

He snores.

"Edward!" I try to shake him awake and he gathers me in again and smacks some more.

I'm alone. All that, 'we're going through this together,' crap. What a crock. There had been this dramatic moment in my dream where he'd declared, "I'll be with you!" just like he does. "I won't let anything happen to you," he'd said.

"You already have," I spat at him.

So now I pull out of the man-cage and grab my pillow.

"Babe?" he says as readjusts his covers.

"Don't bother," I say.

I hit the couch in the family room. The fire has died down and I get back up, huffing and puffing. Then I add some more wood.

I've just laid down again when he's there. "Babe? What are you doing in here?"

I don't want to talk about it now. I'm trying to sleep.

"Go away," I tell him.

"What's the matter? Come back to bed."

"No. I just feel…so alone."

"What? I'm right here Bella," he says and next thing I know he's moving onto the couch beside me.

"This is impossible," I say smashed against the couch's soft back.

"Come 'ere," he's saying as he gets his arms around me. We watch movies this way all the time.

I don't want this. But I do. So I begrudgingly let him think he's solved everything once more, but I have to laugh as he struggles to get the afghan over his long legs and big feet.

"Motherfuck," he mutters failing after several tries.

We settle down again, his feet in the wind.

I can feel his misery. "Babe…why don't we go back to our big, cozy, soft bed where we can get all cozy and fucky," he says, cajoling me.

"We're not getting fucky," I say sternly.

"Come on. What did I do?"

"Don't talk to me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm ridiculous and Uncle Edward is here to sort it out."

"Come on," he says and even though I'm protesting, quietly so as not to disturb Juney, he's got me on my feet and he's pulling me down the hall to our room. Scrapper hears us and starts to whine. He'll probably wake Juney.

Edward gets me in the bed, covers me up, then hurries to the other side and gets in beside me. He gets us all cozy again.

"You going to tell me?" he says kissing my temple same time his hand runs over my stomach, his big protective, loving hand.

"I…you could have gotten hurt today…so hurt," I say, the tears building.

"Well I didn't. I'm right here aren't I?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know if I'm here?" he says rubbing a little lower, a little higher.

"I…love you so much Edward."

"I'll always come home to you, Bella. Don't I always come home to you?"

"Yeah," I say as I cry, and he continues to rub. "But…I couldn't live without you." I start to really cry now.

"Hey…Bella, Bella," he says moving me so I have to look at him. "Come on."

"I…know I'm being…I…it's just…."

"Shh," he says, comforting me, my ear over his heart. I've made a wet patch on his chest. He has a few hairs there that tickle my nose.

"You're a cop's wife," he says. "You have to be strong. I need to know you'll carry on no matter what."

"I will," I say, then I hiccup like a puss.

"Everyone has their time, Babe. I'm planning on mine being a long way off."

"How do you know?" I say, just because it sucks to think of these things.

"You enjoy the day and stay positive. Babe, you can't control a lot of shit, you know? You do what you can."

Uncle Edward is pretty wise. He sounds a lot like Charlie.

"I know. I'm being stupid." me

"We'll talk it out…you know?" him

"Are you ever afraid?" I say.

He's quiet and stroking me in such a comforting way. "It doesn't control me," he says quietly.

"What…does?"

"You," he laughs and I slap his chest and he settles down. "What controls me? I don't know. I really believe God's not out to get me, I guess. I get things I don't deserve…on both ends. I get more good than bad. We all do. I guess…it's love. And duty to those I love. You get that right…it branches out in a positive way. You've got something to give. That's it."

"You're like…a sage."

He laughs at this. "A sage who likes to love on his wife," he says pulling me up higher so he can kiss me.

His kisses. He lived so long without someone to kiss. "How'd you get so good at this?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says. "Maybe you inspire me."

"I do?"

"Yeah Pumpkin-face. Everyday."


End file.
